From the Ashes
by Yih
Summary: AU. Prophecies are only possible futures. In this world, Voldemort ignored the prophecy and left the Potters alone. Now Harry is in his 5th year and everything is relatively normal except for constant war and an impending Triwizard Tournament!
1. The Past is Never Forgotten

**FROM THE ASHES**  
by Yih + Nenya Entwhistle

* * *

**_1. The Past is Never Forgotten_**

Harry Potter woke up like every other morning, but today was different. It was the last day of the summer holidays and like usual he would be going back to school by a Hogwarts-issued portkey that would transport him to the Great Hall. Harry stretched lazily on his bed and pulled the duvet he had kicked off himself in the middle of the night over his lower body. He then lowered his hand and lightly touched himself. He sighed and pushed his face into the pillow, moaning softly.

"Harry!" he heard his mum calling from downstairs. "You better get downstairs and have some breakfast before your portkey activates!"

Harry groaned and removed his hand from his boxers. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes; then he got up and went to the bathroom to do his morning ablutions. Harry threw a shirt on over himself and headed down the creaky stairs that his father said he was going to fix one of these days, but had never gotten around to actually doing it. Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair, wishing once again that he didn't have such difficult hair.

"There you are," Lily said, turning around with her wand in hand and breakfast floating in front of her. "Better pick what you like before _daddy _gets down." She grinned and Harry scowled.

"_Mum…_" Harry put the whine in his voice only because he really wished Lily would stop teasing him about the whole 'daddy' thing. Okay, so, fine, he did call his father daddy when he was distressed, anybody would!

Lily _accio'ed _ one of the two muffins to her and Harry quickly grabbed the other one just when he heard James barreling down the stairs. Harry took a huge bite out of the muffin and chewed fast, knowing that marking that the muffin was his wouldn't do him much good if James was really hungry. James scowled and took the banana and a piece of toast.

"You two," he muttered, biting into his bread. He concentrated his glare on Harry before shifting his attention to Lily, his glare softening quite noticeably. "You could make three muffins, you know."

Lily beamed and shook her head. "How would I get you out of bed otherwise?"

"Evil, impossible, cruel woman," James uttered softly to Lily as he headed toward her with that look Harry knew meant kissing.

Harry immediately mimicked that he was gagging in the background. Of course, he didn't really mind his parents' blatant show of affection, but he couldn't clap for them. That would be kind of strange and rather disturbing.

"Well," James declared, somehow managing to speak around the rest of the toast he'd shoved into his mouth, "I'm off to the Ministry." He winked at Harry. "You try to stay out of trouble."

Harry rolled his eyes with as much exaggeration as possible, not that it did him much good when his father was busy giving his mother another round of thorough kissing that would have been so embarrassing in public. Harry waved goodbye, standing next to Lily as James threw the powder into the fireplace and flooed over to his office at the Ministry.

Once he was gone, Lily smoothed out her apron and turned around with a warm smile on her face. "You don't have much time."

"Neither do you," he responded.

Harry looked up at the clock that said James was working and that Lily needed to do something and that he also needed to be doing something. His mother had to be at her job as a Dark Artifacts specialist soon. Harry knew she had called in to arrive later than usual, so that she could send him off. Harry still remembered when he'd gone off to Hogwarts his first year, how nervous his parents had been that they'd both taken the entire morning off and had gone with him by portkey to Hogwarts. Luckily, his parents had only blended into the crowd as most other parents had accompanied their child.

Lily held out her arms, limping forward a step, and Harry didn't need to be asked to go to her. He rushed forward and hugged her as tightly as she hugged him. He kissed both of her cheeks and said, "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked with the slightest bit of hesitation in her voice.

Harry nodded. "It'll be fine."

"Be careful," she murmured. "Promise me."

"I promise, but you know it's safe at Hogwart. It's neutral ground."

"For now," she whispered so lightly that Harry knew she didn't mean for him to hear that. "Study hard, but have fun. Don't grow up too fast." Lily raised her wand and summoned the acceptance letter to Hogwarts that Harry had received when he was eleven.

He took the letter and at precisely nine o'clock the portkey activated. Harry saw his mother's smile waver as he was pulled from his home to his home away from home.

Harry Potter was returning to Hogwarts.

...

The Great Hall was already bustling with activity when Harry arrived as the upper years were already there and sitting at their respective house tables. Harry grinned when he saw Hermione and held out his arms just in time to catch her when she leapt at him. He ended up getting a face full of her thick hair before she released him. Hermione smiled back at him and quickly kissed him on the cheek then she drew back and gave him a critical inspection.

"I do believe you've gotten taller," she said. "About time."

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking once again that Hermione reminded him an awful lot of his mother when she wasn't busy being his best friend and sister that he'd never had. "Your hair is the same as ever," he remarked. "Always in my face."

Now it was Hermione's turn to look annoyed and she wrinkled her nose as if to say she didn't like what he'd said, but she was a mature individual and she wasn't going to let that bother her. Yeah, right. It did bother her and he knew it. She just liked to pretend that it didn't and it was her choice. Harry knew better than to interfere with her when she got it in her head to do something, like in third year when she wanted to take all of the possible classes instead of selecting a few and had to use a time turner that took an incredible physical toll on herself _and_ on him. At one point that year, he swore she was making him as crazy and as anxious as she was.

"Harry," Hermione said sharply causing him to snap out of his thoughts and he smiled ruefully at her.

"Sorry about that."

Instead of saying that he apologized too much, Hermione grabbed his hand, tugging him along with her to the Gryffindor table where they found a spot opposite of Ron and Neville. The latter waved at them cheerfully in greeting, whereas the former pointedly ignored him and turned to talked to Seamus.

"So," Hermione continued as if no one would notice the snub, "since you're rubbish at communication like the stereotypical boy, now I can finally ask you what you've been doing all summer?"

Harry scratched the back of his head and gave Neville a pointed look that said help, but of course he pretended to be absorbed in conversation that was going on next to him, ignoring the both of them. Lucky him, Hary thought and stifled the urge to sigh. No reason to get Hermione more on his case than she already was. It wasn't like he hadn't written to her. Hedwig had carried a few letters to Hermione. It was just he didn't feel the need to write almost daily to her like she did to him and honestly he didn't have much to say.

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked. "I told you most of what happened already."

"But not in detail," Hermione retorted. "I know what you did, but not how or why you did it."

This time it was impossible to hold back his sigh. Harry shrugged and said, "I did it because I liked it and as for how, depends on what I did, I suppose."

Hermione made a weird, strangling sound in her throat that she always did when she wasn't satisfied with his answer. Well, tough, that was the best she was going to get. Hermione was a great friend, considering everything, but sometimes she wanted to know and analyze far too much into his life than he was willing to let her. How many times did he have to remind her that he wasn't a book?

"I wonder how many first years there'll be," Neville remarked. "Last year was the lowest number ever…"

"Most are going elsewhere," Ron stated, brushing his long red fringe out of his eyes. He glanced at Hermione as he said this, a hopeful look in his eyes, but she did not even look at him in acknowledgment. "Beaubaxtons, especially if they're from the south, nearly the same distance as coming up here. Some are even heading to the Americas."

"Regardless, Hogwarts is still the best magical school in the world," Hermione declared. "And it's safer than it's ever been with the Neutrality Clause that's—"

"NOW IF YOU WILL PLEASE STAND AND WELCOME THE FIRST YEARS WITH THE SCHOOL SONG," Dumbledore's voice boomed over the raucous conversations. Harry and his friends all stood up and saluted to the stars, sun, and sky hovering overhead before they joined the Headmaster in song. While they sang, Harry scanned the first years, counting mentally and thought that there might be a small increase from last year's numbers, but in all likelihood there wouldn't be more than five or six new students added to each house.

When the song was over, the Headmaster gestured for the older students to take their seat and McGonagall lead the first years up to the stool and to the sorting hat.

_In the times of war  
We are called to action  
To journey far  
From our comfort zones  
And I know the hardships  
Will build your character  
And develop your relationships  
With others and yourself  
So will you seek  
In the shadowy corners  
To find what makes you, unique?  
Or will you falter  
But don't worry, I am here  
To help you on the road  
So don't fear  
Should your endless ambition  
Say you are Slytherin  
Should your brave intuition  
Say you are Gryffindor  
Should your sharp cognition  
Say you are Ravenclaw  
Should your loyal volition  
Say you are Hufflepuff  
For it is time to ignore the tradition  
Within the houses  
That says the only answer is isolation  
Because in these difficult times, we must unite!_

And so, after that rousing and oh so appropriate song, McGonagall called the names and the first years were sorted: four to Slytherin, four to Ravenclaw, six to Hufflepuff, and six to Gryffindor. Not as evenly divided as it could have been, but then you couldn't force a person into a house that they were ill-suited for. The new Gryffindors looked far too pleased with themselves, but Harry guessed that they thought they were in the bravest house.

Oh Harry didn't deny that Gryffindors were courageous, more deaths in the War had come from their house than any other, but they also were more foolhardy and more likely to charge into the battlefield and completely disregard their commander's orders. That was deadly. That was utterly stupid. That was something Harry didn't want to understand, but he did – all too well. He didn't like to admit that his greatest faults were the stereotypical clichés of his house. At least he recognized them now. He hadn't wanted to.

Harry shuddered and told himself to calm down, especially when Hermione touched his arm gently. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded, feeling uncomfortable at all the eyes that were on him, especially Ron's. "Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Hermione had that look in her eyes like she knew exactly why he was shuddering. She was right too. "It's okay if you're not."

Harry shrugged it off, just like he had tried to when _it_ had happened. Almost three years later, it still haunted his dreams. He could still feel her brown eyes staring at him, open and vacant, while the hissing in the background deafened his ears. Harry took a slow, deep breath and forced himself to look to the head table where Headmaster Dumbledore was about to begin his traditional opening speech.

"Life, as you may have seen and even may know of firsthand, has been constant in the blood that has been shed on both sides," Dumbledore began in a soft voice that somehow managed to amplify throughout the Great Hall, "but there is hope that one day such terrible times will come to an end and here at Hogwarts we strive to unite the differences that make wizard-kind exceptional through the understanding that we are all magical and special.

"And I trust this understanding I speak of will also be given to others not of Hogwarts, those that live in Hogsmeade and other wizarding villages and also to students from magical schools outside of Britain. Because a great event has been coordinated between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang to revive the Triwizard Tournament where the greatest young wizard of our day will be decided and Hogwarts has been chosen to play host!"

...

Chatter, always loud after any holiday, was excessive today after Dumbledore announced the revival of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry slumped onto the sofa, sinking into the raggedy red cushion, listening to the excitement in his fellow Gryffindors' voices, thinking that Dumbledore certainly knew how to stir talk of something other than the War. That was good, he supposed, for children—especially the first years—not to have to think about what was going on in the world around them. But it wasn't like thinking about _it_ could be avoided when _it_ was happening.

"Doom and gloom," Hermione remarked, "is on your face and it isn't especially attractive."

Harry slid his eyes to her and then looked away, avoiding her gaze. "Look at them." He nodded at the lower years, standing in the middle of the room, eagerly talking about the upcoming tournament, speculating on who the Hogwarts Champion would be. "Not worried about what's happening outside."

"Harry, they're just children." Hermione sounded exasperated, but she often was when she was lecturing him about not thinking about the War as much as he did. It wasn't like he tried to think about, it was just rather unavoidable when… when his family was so involved.

"Don't say they're too young," he hissed back. "Don't say that, not when—"

"But they are," she said, her words brushing against his ear. "Despite what is going on out there, they should have a chance to be what they are… children."

"That won't help them prepare for the real world," Harry said, knowing at this instant he sounded like a true Gryffindor—very headstrong. "That won't help them when they have to take their place in the War."

"Maybe it'll be over by that time." Hermione looked over at where the first years were convening with the prefects to find out where their rooms were located. "Who knows?"

"It hasn't ended yet and it's gone on for twenty years," Harry said, looking down at his hands. Sometimes he wondered why the War had gone on as long as it had, why it hadn't collapsed in a few years like other wars in the past had, especially when the ideals they were fighting for were slowly being lost after each battle they fought. "I don't think it'll end anytime soon, not unless something drastic happens and one side somehow obliterates the other and that's unlikely. We're at a draw and have been at one for years."

"And closer to peace," Hermione whispered, "I think."

"I don't think either side would be willing to concede," Harry muttered, thinking that the only ceasefire that had ever been mutually agreed upon by both sides was Hogwarts. And, if he thought more about it, wars never ended in a draw. There was always a winner and a loser. "Not when it's gone on this long. If only..."

The bell, given by both the Light and Dark to signify the truce they held at Hogwarts, rang its beautiful chimes throughout the school grounds to ring in the beginning of a new year and the start of the very first class. Harry and Hermione both stood and grabbed the parchment that had suddenly popped in front of them that listed the schedule of classes they had chosen from the year before. Harry grimaced a bit when he saw that his first class was Potions. Excellent way to start the year, he thought, class with the professor that hated him the most.

"So," Hermione said, peering over his shoulder, "you've got Professor Snape too. Partners?"

"Of course," he said.

Harry smiled and slung his arm over Hermione's shoulders, grabbing both of their bags with his free hand, as he steered them out of the Gryffindor dorms and to the stairwell that led to the basement where the Potions laboratory was. He didn't have to tell her of course, it was a given in any class they shared that they would sit next to each other and work together. It had been like that since the first year and that constancy kept Harry grounded when the world outside was falling apart and he felt utterly powerless to stop it.

...

Another healing potion and another student grumbled, getting thumped on the back of the head by Snape for his effort. Harry could understand both sentiments rather well. It seemed like all they ever did in Potions was brew healing potions that differed only in usage and difficulty. Though it might be a little redundant at times, how anyone could overlook the importance of each _perfectly_ brewed potion was beyond him. Clearly there was a purpose behind why they were making these specific potions and Harry didn't mind how boring it was as long as it served a purpose.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said, hovering close enough to make Harry uncomfortable, "what do we have here?" Snape, of course, had to pause and inspect every detail of his potion, taking the stirrer to test the consistency, sniffing at the scent, and eyeballing the color. "A little off as usual," Snape remarked. "One point from Gryffindor."

Next to Harry, Hermione automatically stiffened and her hand floated above the cauldron with the ingredient they should add next, waiting. Snape turned to her and barked, "What do you think you're doing Ms. Granger? _Add_ the gillyweed now!"

Harry watched Hermione flinch, but she didn't drop the gillyweed in and cause the potion to be unsettled by the sudden addition. Instead she broke the gillyweed in her hand into little pieces and slipping it into the potion, causing their cauldron to bubble a bit with the addition. Other than that, their potion was coming along perfectly—they knew it and Snape certainly did. He just didn't want to admit it.

The vendetta Snape had against the marauders was getting old, even if Harry understood the reason why. Harry had wanted so badly to just hate Snape as much as his professor hated him, but his mum had always taught him to look at both sides of an issue and Harry just felt a strange pity for Snape and the hatred he couldn't get past. That didn't mean Snape didn't get unerneath his skin. Snape did, but that didn't bother him as much as Snape signaling out Hermione because of him. Snape could nitpick at him all he wanted, but why did he have to cause problems for Hermione too?

Harry gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He would not yell like he had last year at Snape. That would only make things worse and that was exactly what Snape wanted. He wanted confirmation that _Harry_ was the carbon copy of James Potter. Well, sorry Snape, you aren't going to get what you want. And – couldn't he see that despite his hair and his face, he was his mum's son?

"Barely passable," Snape said after the potion had settled. "You will need to keep stirring this potion for a half hour before bottling it. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes glued to the potion, and she said, "Yes, Professor."

When Snape no longer had his attention directed at their table, Harry touched Hermione gently on the shoulder. She turned to him and he gave her a small smile. She smiled back at him and continued stirring the potion clockwise, waiting. Harry kept his sigh to himself and wished once again that life didn't have to be so unfair.

...

Class without Hermione always made Harry a little edgy, even in his fifth year and even when it was Transfiguration because he never quite knew who he would end up sitting next to. It didn't help either that he had dragged his feet to class after walking Hermione to Ancient Runes and promising that he'd be on time to his class. He wasn't late, but he skived by just his skin when he stepped into classroom when the bells chimed the start of class. His only choice was to sit besides Millicent Bulstrode. Harry dropped himself into the chair and folded his hands neatly in front of him, his eyes at the front where Professor McGonagall leapt off her desk and into human form.

"Welcome again to Transfiguration," she said, surveying the mixed class—from all four houses as all their classes were—with her sharp eyes and Harry was certain her gaze fell on him a tad longer than any other student. "I am sure many of you will be surprise at how much more work you will be getting this year, but remember your OWLs are coming up this year and it is best to start preparations early. So expect everything to get that much more difficult… and with that, please take your wands out. I will be testing which students have been practicing their Transfiguration over the summer as _I_ recommended."

Harry slid his eyes carefully to survey the room and noted that many of the Ravenclaws in the classroom didn't look the least bit nervous, but it figures that they would have studied what a professor recommended. They probably studied over the summer regardless if it was suggested. Quite a few of the Hufflepuffs looked a little nervy as did a few Gryffindors. The Slytherins looked collected as they often did. If there was one thing that Harry had to admire about them was that they usually weren't frazzled in the face of the unexpected. It was something to strive and mimic, especially when it concealed weakness.

"Why don't we start with you," McGonagall said, placing a small block of wood before Susan Bones. "Transfigure this into a rat."

Susan tapped her wand against the block and whispered the spell that would change a non-living object into a living creature, causing a golden glow around the block until it shuddered out of existence, leaving only a wooden rat figurine behind—clearly not alive. McGonagall pursed her lips together and waved her wand over the figurine and reversed Susan's spell. She then raised her gaze and scanned the classroom, saying, "Now can anyone demonstrate how to do this spell, which I may delicately add was a part of your assigned work over the summer holidays?"

No one raised their hand to volunteer, not even the Ravenclaws. It was a difficult spell and Harry wasn't even sure he could pull it off and he had gotten quite a bit of tutoring this summer on Transfiguration from Sirius. For some reason his godfather was overly earnest about him becoming an Animagus before the marauders did. The only flaw to Sirius' plan was that he kept forgetting Harry took more after his mum than his dad. Transfiguration was not one of his best subjects.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, turning to him with her stern eyes, much to his dread, "would you demonstrate this spell?"

Harry nodded and stood up from his seat and pointed his wand at the block of wood McGonagall had placed in his desk. He took a deep breath, remembering that he needed to keep his wrist firm as he said the incantation: "_Rattusifors!"_

He sighed with relief when he felt his magic surge into the block of wood from his wand, surrounding it and shaping it into the form of a rat. He had not done any worse than Bones had, at least the wood was turning into the proper shape. Harry kept staring at the wooden block, hoping fervently that it would be alive and his eyes widened with surprise when he heard the rat squeak before it scurried off the table.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_ McGonagall exclaimed, freezing the rat before it could escape. She then floated the rat up and lightly set it down on the front table. Harry glanced up and saw that she was looking at him through speculative eyes, but the regard was contemplative rather than concerned. "Now class," she remarked, "that is how you perform a transfiguration spell. Mr. Potter has obviously done his recommended summer coursework."

Harry heard a few grumblings, mainly from the Gryffindors that he was showing off. It hurt to hear that from his fellow housemates, but he supposed it was somewhat understandable considering what had happened three years ago… and yet it had been three years already. Could they not forget? Could he not be forgiven?

He stared straight ahead, not glancing at anyone, particularly not in Ron's direction. While he wanted, wished that things could go back to the way they were before, Harry knew that would never happen. How could it? What had happened was awful and the damage was irreversible. A life had been taken, and it would never return.

Hermione was the only friend he had that had never once doubted him, never once turned her back on him and if she was the only friend he would have – that would be enough. He would rather take one good and true friend than a hundred of friends that would turn their backs on him at the slightest hint of something awry. If it were not for her and for his parents, Harry knew that life would be exceedingly difficult and unpleasant. He was so very lucky to have them in his life and no matter how the rest of the wizarding world viewed him… as long as they were there, it was nothing.

He could stand anything as long as they were there.

_To be continued..._

* * *

Released on April 25, 2009.


	2. All Knowledge is Worth Having

**FROM THE ASHES**

By Yih + Nenya Entwhistle

* * *

_2. All Knowledge is Worth Having_

It was strange, Harry thought, having Hermione walk him to class instead of the other way around, but she had insisted and he hadn't had the heart to tell her no. Indeed, it was comforting for him to have her there when he wasn't at all sure why he was taking this particular class. After all, it would only confirm everyone's worst fears about him.

"I wish I hadn't chickened out," Hermione remarked, smiling at him brightly. "I think you're dead right about this, about wanting to know everything about something before you judge it. That's the fair way, isn't it? And I'm sure nothing that the professor teaches you will be anything alarming, I mean, we're still at school and all. There are restrictions. It's probably the best way to learn it, when I think about. Don't you?"

Harry returned her smile. "You're really worried, aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" she asked, looking a little put out.

"A little," he said, "but only because I know you so well."

"I really do wish I could take the class with you," she said earnestly.

"I'll be all right," he responded. "Besides, you're really good at Arithmancy and it'd be a pity if you gave that up."

"But I could have taken it at the other timeslot—"

"And it would have conflicted with another one of your classes," Harry retorted. "I'll be fine, Hermione, and you don't have to worry about me."

"I'm a worrywart," she said. "I can't help it."

"You better go run to your class or you're going to be late. I had no idea that this class was so far away. I've never even been to this part of the castle before."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, looking quickly at the time. "I don't mind being late this once."

Harry stopped walking and reached over to grab her by the shoulders, abruptly turning her around. "I'll be fine," he said, nudging her forward. "Now go to your class."

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, her face a mix of relief and annoyance. "See you at the library after?"

Harry nodded and waved goodbye at her, watching her until she disappeared around one of the many turns they had taken to get here. After she was gone, Harry sighed and continued up the convoluted pathway, sometimes traveling down in the direction of the dungeon and then conversely back up the stairs. It was a rather indirect and frustrating way to get around, even for Hogwarts.

"So what do we have here," said a voice that Harry was all too familiar with that immediately set him on edge. The voice wasn't unpleasant to the ears – actually it was silky, articulate, and a tad sharp – but belonged to Draco Malfoy. "Did you get lost, Potter?"

Harry whirled around and he indeed saw what he was expecting, the too blond, too feminine-looking Malfoy. An insult was at the tip of his tongue, but he held back the urge to say it since it wasn't what he had been taught at home. Lily would have been very irate at him if he started to pick up any of the Marauders' habits. Harry just stared at Malfoy instead in his typical fashion and Malfoy glared back at him, his face looking pinched and unattractive.

"As tongue-tied as always I see," Malfoy declared. "Where's your mudblood shadow?" he inquired, making an obvious show of looking around everywhere. "Aren't you two glued to the hip?"

Harry was furious that Malfoy had called Hermione a mudblood and he saw red before he grabbed Malfoy by the front of his robes and slammed him against the wall. "Don't _ever _and I mean _ever _call Hermione that."

Malfoy stared back at him, his gray eyes gleaming. "What will you do? Curse me? I don't think you would, Golden Boy."

It was bitterly ironic to Harry that it was the Slytherins, especially Malfoy that still saw him as the Golden Boy of Gryffindor thanks to his habit of sticking with what Lily had always taught him – to be kind, honorable, and true. Everyone else, even the Hufflepuffs, walked a wide circle around him. Without Hermione, and Neville to a degree, he wouldn't really have any friends.

"Don't call her that," Harry said softly.

"Why do you care?" Malfoy retorted.

Harry didn't know why they even spoke to each other. It was all pointless, really. All they did was argue about things neither of them would ever agree upon. Hermione was one of them and then there was Voldemort and Dumbledore and doing good instead of satisfying what you wanted. They were too different to ever be friends.

"She's my friend," Harry said simply. "I stand up for all my friends."

"Is that so?" Malfoy inquired, looking for some reason serious all of a sudden. "For all your avowed loyalty, your friends do not seem to show you the same. You pick your friends poorly, excluding_ the _muggleborn and _the_ dimwit."

Harry opened his mouth initially to protest before he shut it. What could he say? Malfoy was right. He did pick his friends poorly. It was plainly obvious, especially when they had abandoned him when he had turned out to be a parselmouth. It still eluded him how he was a parselmouth. He was a Potter and there was no hint of any Slytherin descendents in the paternal line. It couldn't be from his mum; she was a muggleborn like Hermione. How could he have a trait that was known to be from Salazar Slytherin?

Unless, as he had thought several times, a long, long time ago his maternal line had forgotten it had once been magical.

But could magic stay latent for that long? Lily's family could trace its muggle lineage for centuries. Or was one muggle a squib? Were several of them? Did they hide that they were from wizarding families? Harry shook his head. There were too many possibilities and yet… his mum was an abnormally strong witch for a muggleborn and yet… so was Hermione. They reminded him a lot of each other, although Hermione was a bit more academically inclined, which was saying a lot.

"Potter," Malfoy said, startling him from his thoughts, "are you going to stand there and daydream all day? Or are you coming to class?"

Harry stared at Malfoy, thrown off by the somewhat friendly gesture. Malfoy was confusing, one second he was insulting his friends and the next he was reminding him to get to class. If Malfoy had just left him there and Harry ended up being late, that would fit the description of Malfoy being an indisputable arse, but when he acted in this vague manner it was hard to form a concrete opinion. Malfoy was probably doing this on purpose to throw him off. Why did Malfoy have to pick on him so much?

"Why do you care?" Harry asked curiously.

"I don't," Malfoy stated, not even bothering to look back as he had already begun walking away.

Harry stared at Malfoy, shaking his head, completely perplexed. He stood there for a few moments before he realized that he was going to be late for class if he didn't hurry along and that was certainly not going to make a favorable impression on the new professor, considering he was likely another Slytherin. For who else would teach this class? Harry didn't care if the professor was a Slytherin as long as he was fair. He hoped fervently that this professor would not favor Slytherins over all others just because they were from his house like Snape. It would be nice to be liked or hated because of who he was rather than who they thought he might be.

Harry took out his pocket watch and cursed silently when he saw he really was going to be late unless the class was close. He broke out into a dead out run, which was awkward with robes and to his surprisingly luck the class was just around the corner. He stopped abruptly and walked into the classroom as calmly as he could mustered, though he was breathing a little fast from his panicked, excited rush. As he walked into the room, he noticed immediately that he didn't know all of them by name, but he did recognize that most of the students were Slytherins. There were also a few Ravenclaws, but there were no Hufflepuffs and definitely no Gryffindors.

The bell rang then, loud and clear, signaling the start of class.

"Take your seats," said a clear, commanding voice, and as Harry whirled around to see who it was, he was surprised to find the face somewhat familiar even though he did not know who the man was. "And that includes you," the professor said, looking directly at him.

For first time in three years, he was suddenly not infamous. Did this professor really not know who he was? Harry supposed it was possible. It wasn't like he would be _that_ infamous outside of Hogwarts, at least he hoped not. Besides, this professor was new and teaching a class that had never before been offered. Maybe Harry could start fresh without his past haunting him as it had recently.

He nodded at the professor and hurried to take his seat, groaning a little when he saw that the only available seat was next to Malfoy. He was surprised it was even available, considering that Malfoy always had one of his two goons sitting with him, but neither Goyle or Crabbe were in the class. That was unexpected, after all, they were Slytherins. Harry took his seat and directed his full attention to the front where he was trying to figure out why this professor looked so familiar.

"I am Professor Black," the professor began. "I will be teaching you the Theory of Dark Arts and perhaps, if I am able to obtain permission from Headmaster Dumbledore and the Hogwarts Committee, we will try some of the safer spells."

Of course, it clicked after the introduction who the professor resembled. He had the same black hair and gray eyes that Harry's godfather had. But who was he to Sirius? Harry didn't know much about his godfather's family, which made sense when he had been disowned by his parents. Was Professor Black a cousin of some sort? It seemed rather unlikely that they were unrelated, given how the entire Wizarding World was related to each other in some way or another.

If Harry wanted to look back far enough in the Potter family tree, he could probably find a connection to Malfoy. That thought didn't particularly please him, but there simply weren't that many wizards in the world compared to muggles. If it came down to war, Harry was certain the muggles would crush them, magic or no magic. They had technology on their side. It was rather a pity that so many purebloods looked down on muggles. There was a lot of knowledge they could pick up from them.

"Potter," Malfoy hissed as he jabbed Harry with his wand, "it's your turn."

"My turn?" Harry said in confusion and then realized the entire class was looking at him. He flushed and glanced up to see that Professor Black was watching him with steady, unreadable eyes.

"It's your turn to introduce yourself," Malfoy said softly, but sharply.

Harry didn't know if he should stand or not, but he got up from his seat quickly and said, "I'm Harry Potter, uh, 5th year Gryffindor."

He sat back down immediately and Malfoy rose from his seat, which Harry was glad to see and said, "Draco Malfoy, a 5th year Slytherin."

And from there, the introductions continued and Harry noticed that there were several 5th years, a couple of 6th years, and even a few 7th years. As he had noted at the beginning of class, Slytherins made up the great majority. It should have felt like he was in a snake pit and he should have been felt uncomfortable, but he didn't. The Gryffindors had made him feel a whole lot worse after… Harry abruptly suppressed the memory.

He had been thinking about that incident far too much lately. It made sense since it had happened at Hogwarts and returning only brought him closer to it. But he was tired of feeling guilty, of being on edge, of having to tread softly. He was not a bad person. He didn't think anyone who was raised by Lily Potter could be a bad person; she simply wouldn't allow it.

That didn't mean he didn't make mistakes. He wasn't perfect. He was human.

"Now that we have all introduced ourselves," Professor Black declared, "I would like to begin by welcoming you to this class. I believe it is important to learn the theory behind the Dark Arts before you pass judgment on it. I will not lecture to you if the Dark Arts is evil or not, nor will I talk about the War that is occurring between the Dark and Light wizards. That is not our concern in this class.

"Our goal in this class is to give you a basic theoretical knowledge of the Dark Arts, what it is and what it does. There are, of course, many spells that are barred from usage, including all spells that are of the Dark Arts. You will learn the theory behind the spells, and you may form your own opinion on if you believe the Ministry of Magic was correct to institute such a ban.

"I believe," he stated as his eyes swept through the class and settled briefly on Harry before moving along, "we will learn plenty this year from one another and I look forward to it."

Harry felt tense the second Professor Black had looked at him and he still felt tense after the professor's gaze had left him. It was strange how the glance had impacted him. It was like being pushed directly at the chest. He was obviously making more out of it than he should, since the professor had clearly looked at everyone around the room, not just him. He wasn't being singled out.

Professor Black likely had no idea who Harry Potter even was.

At least, that was what Harry hoped.

…

"How was it?" Hermione whispered fervently, rushing at him and promptly grabbing him by the hand to drag him to their little corner of the library where Madame Pince wouldn't yell at them from making insufferable noise in what was supposed to be an area of complete silent. "What happened? I'm so curious. I knew I should have taken the class. Who was the professor? I couldn't find out anything—"

"Slow down," Harry said, patting her on the shoulder. "One question at a time."

"Was it interesting?" she inquired.

Harry nodded. "I think I will learn a lot."

"Who is the professor? Is it someone affiliated to Lord Voldemort?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. It certainly wasn't one of the known Death Eaters, but he could very well be one of Lord Voldemort's followers. His name makes me wonder if…"

"If what?" Hermione asked impatiently, her curiosity not abating at all, instead it was expanding exponentially.

"If he's related to my godfather."

"Sirius? Why would you think that?"

"Because," Harry explained, "his name is Professor Black."

Hermione's eyes widened and she got that sparkle of interest in her eyes that she got every time she dragged him to research with her in the stacks far, far back inside the library. They were probably going to research this and he wondered how long it would take. It's not like he minded. It would be easier looking it up himself and finding the answer without asking Sirius about it. Who knew if it would end up being a sore subject?

"They are probably related," Hermione declared. "The only way they would not be is if Professor Black was a muggleborn and I somehow doubt that a muggleborn would be teaching Theory of Dark Arts. I might be an intelligent witch, but I have no idea how I would even self-teach myself Dark Arts. At the very least, he has to be a half-blood and more likely than not, he is a pureblood."

"And if he is…" Harry began and trailed off.

"And if he is," she repeated, "then he is somehow related to Sirius."

"I guess that means…"

Hermione already had a wide grin on her face. "Research!"

Harry groaned a little because honestly he didn't mind that much. It was just that he was used to groaning with Ron when they had used to research together before… Harry shook his head, again refusing to think about it. That was the past and he couldn't change that. There was no use dredging it up.

"I know just where to start," Hermione remarked, dragging him to the back of the stacks where some of the oldest books were kept. "I was fascinated by these during first year and I never thought they would actually come in handy, but lo and behold, they have."

"What are these?" Harry asked, staring dubiously at the ancient Latin that was etched in gold on the leather spines of the books.

"Family trees, of course," Hermione answered. "Where else do you think we would look? You can pretty much trace back any wizarding family via these books. Remember how I was telling you about how far back your family goes? It's quite remarkable actually. Your family was one of the oldest pureblood families until your father married your mother. The records are incomplete, though. There is quite a bit of information that was lost, but there is no doubt that your family is very old.

"It amuses me," she remarked, "how Draco and Ron hate each other, but they are related via the Black family. Don't you remember me telling you that Mrs. Weasley's mother was a Black? As is Draco's? Their common ancestor is Phineas Nigellus Black, who was a former Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"What amuses me," Harry responded, "is that you seem to read these in your spare time."

"It's interesting," she muttered defensively.

"I'm not saying it's not," he responded. "I can't be amused at your hobby?"

"Seems like you're making fun of me," she muttered.

"I'm not," he said. "When do I ever make fun of you?" _That's what Ron does…_, but Harry left that unsaid.

"You never, ever make fun of me," Hermione uttered in a completely unconvinced voice. "Of course not, you only say you're amused." She turned to him briefly and smiled, obviously not too annoyed at him, before she returned her attention to the long rows of books. "Ah ha!" she exclaimed as she pulled one of those said books from the shelf.

Hermione tipped the book and showed him the cover, which roughly translated to _The Purest of Wizards Blood _from its original Latin. The book was incredibly thick and looked very old, parts of the spine cracking from age and use. Harry nodded that he had read the title and Hermione set the book against the edge of the shelf to help prop it up before she flipped it open. The pages were an aging yellow and Hermione took care to gently turn the pages until she reached the B section.

"I found it!" she announced, her finger pointing to the Black family name. "Let's see here…"

Harry peered over to have a look, although it was rather difficult time reading upside down despite the fact he was quite fluent in Latin thanks to Hermione. "What does it say?"

She looked up at him, her eyes positively gleaming. "Did you know that Sirius had a brother?"

Harry's eyes widened this time and he shook his head.

"There are no other male Blacks alive except for Sirius," she remarked, pointing to the family tree where Harry could make out his godfather's name. "He is the last one, but he did have a brother, who might be alive as well. It says he is missing, presumed dead."

"Do you think Professor Black is Sirius' brother?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Do you think so?"

When he thought about, remembered how much Professor Black resembled Sirius, it was possible – wasn't it? Harry wondered why Sirius had never mentioned he had a brother, to think about it no one ever said anything, not Remus or James. No one talked about Sirius' family. Harry supposed it made sense. After all, it was a sore subject and all. Harry sighed. It was possible, but it was also possible that Professor Black had nothing to do with Sirius or his family.

"Too bad there are no photographs," she remarked. "That would probably help a lot, even if they were really old."

Harry was about to say something when the bell chimed for lunch and his stomach growled in acknowledgment, much to his embarrassment and it made him forget entirely what he intended to say. "I guess I'm hungry," he muttered when Hermione glanced sideways at him.

"It appears so," she responded, grinning as she put the book back on its spot on the shelf.

"I'm growing," he said defensively.

"Then let's go get you something to eat."

She grabbed his hand, again dragging him along with her, and Harry smiled as he let her have her way.

…

His favorite class with his favorite professor, Harry sat at the front of the class with Hermione right next to him. He glanced at her and she smiled at him, sharing his enthusiasm. He had once wondered why Hermione hadn't ended up in Ravenclaw because on the surface she really did seem like a perfect fit, it was only when he got to know her better and looked deeper that he had seen her courageous heart. She was a Gryffindor through and through – brave and true.

"Welcome to the 5th year of the Art of Practical Defense," Professor Lupin greeted the class, which was made up of mainly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. "I am glad to have you all in my class again and I hope we will continue to learn a lot from each other. Would anyone like to demonstrate the spells from the recommended summer coursework?"

Harry didn't have to glance backwards to know that none of the Gryffindors would raise their hand voluntarily and of course, Hermione's arm shot up quickly. He didn't raise his own simply because he didn't need to _show off_ and further alienate himself from the rest of his house. Hermione doing so, considering that she was a fastidious bookworm, was expected. As much as Harry would like to demonstrate his skill and knowledge to Professor Lupin, he would have to abstain.

"Granger," Professor Lupin said, gesturing for her to rise, "what will you demonstrate?"

Hermione stood up from her seat. "I will try the shield spell," she declared before pointing her wand in the space in front of her and saying, "_Protego!_"

Harry watched the shield erupt from her wand and form a mostly transparent barrier that would protect her from many types of spells that could be cast at her. It was a powerful defensive spell, capable of deflecting any spell except an Unforgivable, as long as the spellcaster had enough strength to hold the spell. Hermione had not been able to cast this spell before summer, so she had indeed been doing the recommended coursework.

Professor Lupin nodded his approval and pointed his wand at her. "_Stupefy!" _he exclaimed and the spell collided with Hermione's and it looked for a moment that it would breakthrough, but then it bounced back. _"Finite incantatem!_" he shouted immediately before the stupefy spell could affect him.

"Very well done," Professor Lupin commended. "Would anyone else like to demonstrate?

When no one else raised their hand, Hermione jabbed him sharply in the side. Harry glanced furiously at her and shook his head. He didn't want to demonstrate any of the spells he knew even if he did know several advanced level defense spells. He didn't need to come off as a show off, not even in defense, not when everyone was thinking he was going to turn into the next Lord Voldemort or Grindelwald.

"No one else?" Professor Lupin stated, looking directly at him.

Harry swallowed his reservations and reluctantly raised his hand. How could he say no to him, not when Professor Lupin was clearly asking Harry to do this? If only they were in a mixed class with Ravenclaws, even Slytherins, then there would be someone else that would have volunteered and Harry wouldn't have to.

"Potter," Professor Lupin said, also motioning him to stand, "what spell will you perform?"

Harry rose from his seat and gripped his wand tightly in his hand. "The Patronus Charm," he responded, choosing this spell specifically because Professor Lupin had taught it to him privately during third year even though it was an advanced spell.

He had successfully conjured wisps of gray smoke with Professor Lupin's guidance last year and once during the summer he had finally conjured his patronus fully. He had been slightly surprised when it had taken the shape of a stag, James' animagus form. Then again, all patronuses were some type of animal and Lily was not an animagus. It made sense when Harry had thought about it that his patronus would be a stag.

Harry closed his eyes briefly to bring up the memory, his happiest memory, when his family was together with his godfather and Professor Lupin – all of them laughing and smiling at Christmas Eve. He opened his eyes abruptly, pointed his wand, and whispered, "_Expecto Patronum!" _

A strong burst of silver shot from his wand and quickly swirled, gradually slowing until it settled on the form of a stag. Harry stared at his patronus, proud he had been able to conjure it in front of others for the first time and slightly scared that it would… The patronus began to fade and Harry forced his negative feelings aside and held onto the Christmas memory that was so bright and cheerful that it made him smile.

"Good work, Potter," Professor Lupin said. "A corporeal patronus is quite a feat."

Harry's cheek burned from the compliment and he could hear the restlessness behind him. Hermione patted his arm in support, but it wasn't enough to dissipate the anxiety within him and his patronus quickly faded into nothing. Harry swiftly sat down and looked straight ahead, trying not to hear the words that were undoubtedly being said about him – how he was so powerful and how the professors favored him and what not.

"Incidentally, our first lesson will be the Patronus Charm," Professor Lupin declared, effectively drawing the attention of the class back to him. "I am sure that you all are aware that the spell is particularly useful against Dementors. Would anyone like to tell me why?"

Hermione, of course, was the first one to raise her hand, while Harry slouched his shoulders forward to make himself as small and as insignificant as possible. He hated being judged for everything that he did or that happened to him. Was it so wrong for him to take a Dark Arts class? All he wanted was to learn. Was it so wrong for him to demonstrate his skill at magic? It wasn't like he did it purposefully to show off. He didn't want any attention; he didn't want to be special in any way; he just wanted to be happy and to live a good life.

Was that too much to ask for?

_To be continued…_

* * *

Released on May 12, 2009.


	3. Getting Closer to the Enemy

**FROM THE ASHES**

By Yih + Nenya Entwhistle

* * *

_3. Getting Closer to the Enemy_

"If I may have all your attention," Dumbledore said, standing up from his seat at the center of the Professor's table, "I have an important announcement to make. As you may recall, I mentioned during the first day of school that we would be playing host to the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry immediately stopped shoveling breakfast into his mouth, as had most of the others sitting at the Gryffindor table, and he turned to look at the Headmaster. Most of Dumbledore's so-called announcements were often silly and insane, though entertaining. This was the first important one since the start of Hogwarts. Harry slid his eyes briefly to Hermione and saw that her attention was fixated on the Headmaster.

"I am well aware that there has not been a Triwizard Tournament in your lifetime or your parents'. There has not been a Triwizard Tournament in nearly a century and what you know of this time old tradition is likely rooted in myth and legend. I feel that is wise to inform you of what the Triwizard Tournament is truly about.

"It is not a battleground to prove whether Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beaubaxtons is the superior alma mater. The Tournament was established a millennium ago to showcase the best wizards and witches in the world in the ultimate test of magic prowess. You may argue, does that not also showcase the superiority of the schooling?

"I believe that a truly gifted wizard or witch could overcome the disadvantage of inferior education. Do you not agree? That if one truly wanted to acquire knowledge, to expand their horizons, to stretch their ability to the breaking point – they could, couldn't they?"

Dumbledore paused and Harry noticed that every student was paying attention to the Headmaster. Even the Slytherins, notorious for their dislike of Dumbledore, were engrossed. Then again, it was extremely rare for Dumbledore to be this charismatic and this serious. Usually he acted a little off-kilter, a little peculiar, as if he wanted to throw everybody off – acting as if he wasn't one of the most powerful wizards in the world when everyone bloody well knew he was.

"The Triwizard Tournament consists of three difficult, grueling tasks meant to test the limit of your magical ability and ingenuity. As you well know, each school will have a champion. There are no restrictions on age, on anything as to who will be named champion. Every student has the opportunity to put their name in the cup, but know this, there is no forfeiting if your name is called. You must finish your tasks and if failing, suffer the consequences.

"This is no game," Dumbledore stated slowly and intently, "for children to play."

And that was it, that was all they got. Dumbledore didn't even but a rousing exclamation at the end of his speech, instead he sat down and picked up his eating utensils, getting down to the business of eating, leaving the entire Great Hall in a stunned silence. Harry resisted the urge to smile, Dumbledore knew leaving it like that would make a better statement than to push the issue. Harry shook his head ever so slightly, Dumbledore was a master at manipulation and he must never forget that about the Headmaster.

Dumbledore was just as dangerous as Voldemort, even if he was on the side of _Light_.

…

"Potter," Draco said as he took his seat next to Harry.

"Malfoy," Harry responded with a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement.

They were not precisely friends, but the first few weeks of forced interaction in the Theory of Dark Arts class had opened Harry's eyes to the fact they were not entirely incompatible personality-wise. They both had a good deal of interest in ancient spells and were hopelessly addicted to Quidditch. If they had been in any other House than Gryffindor and Slytherin, they might have been friends.

As it was, they tolerated each other's presence in the one class which they shared and Harry was only willing to admit privately that Draco made a good partner. While Harry couldn't trust Draco like he could Hermione, Draco was a little more willing to work cooperatively where Hermione liked to charge forward and left Harry to follow in her wake. It was nice having someone who would not just march forward and leave him behind. It surprised Harry too when he discovered that aspect about Draco.

Draco, truth be told, Harry would have thought to be similar to Hermione in being a little too commanding. To find he was different than Harry expected was a pleasant surprise and it made him wonder if there were more incorrect assumptions he had made. Harry slid his eyes over to his partner and wondered what he would learn about the Slytherin today.

"You have issues," Draco said softly in a tone that was not friendly, but not exactly unfriendly either.

Harry tilted his head to the side with inquiry.

It was a little scary that Draco understood what he meant when he did that. How could Draco read him so well after so little time? Granted Hermione had once told him that he was far too transparent for his own good, although she had also admitted that he had gotten better over the last year… he had been forced to by circumstance. He couldn't keep wearing his emotions on his face. He had to keep himself in check, if only to protect himself.

"You're too... obvious," Draco stated and Harry watched as his gray eyes flickered back and forth before landing on Harry again. "People are starting to talk."

"Talk about what?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes ever so slightly that Harry didn't think anyone would see unless they were sitting next to Draco like he was. Draco looked like he was going to say something, but pursed his lips together in a way that made his face look far less attractive than it usually was. Harry wanted to say something, wanted to ask what Draco meant, but he didn't get the chance when Professor Black strolled into the room with quiet grace that was less forceful than Snape, but no less impressive.

"Permission has been granted," Professor Black announced to the class that was watching him with intent eyes either because they truly were interested in the subject or because he was actually a charismatic teacher, "although it was quite reluctantly granted by the Committee. I also managed to persuade them that it would be highly beneficial for you to acquire some practical knowledge. Of course, you are not exactly allowed to go performing any Dark Arts without restriction.

"I was given leeway to allow you to practice some of the darker aspects of protection spells with a partner. You are not permitted to undertake a spell that would duly harm you or your partner or to bind yourself to them in such a way that would be displeasing to either of you, and yet you are allowed to try your hand at some of the better aspects of the Dark Arts. These protection spells are very ancient magic and you should respect the difficulty and the craft behind them. Are there any questions?"

Draco raised his hand, which didn't surprise Harry at all. For all that Draco made disparaging remarks about Hermione's lack of wizarding blood in her heritage, they were remarkably alike in the fact they were both diehard fanatics about schoolwork and learning. In that regard, they should have been sorted into Ravenclaw, but their other characteristics had pointed them in their current direction.

Harry knew that Draco was clever, but he didn't show it off like the Ravenclaws typically did. He didn't glow in the knowledge of knowing for the sake of it. He wanted to slake his curiosity for things because there was gain to it and that was a decidedly Slytherin quality. Hermione's interest in schoolwork was much less about what she could get from it and much more about knowing for the sheer want of knowing. It was her drive to get it, no matter the cost if it helped a friend, that separated her from Ravenclaws. She would brave a basilisk, and she had. Harry was eternally grateful to Hermione, for everything.

"Malfoy," Professor Black said.

"You mentioned partners," Draco said. "Are we allowed to choose our own or will they be assigned?"

"Good question," Professor Black remarked. "I had not thought of that detail yet, although it is a definite that you will be working with another student. I believe…" his voice trailed off as he was clearly thinking about which way he should proceed. "It would be best if I assigned the partners, just so there is no squabbling amongst yourselves."

Harry felt Professor Black's eyes on him and it was all he could do not to look away. There was something about the Professor that made Harry distinctly uncomfortable when Black focused on him, although in any other situation Harry liked the Professor very much. He really was a good _and_ fair teacher.

"Potter," Professor Black said, "you'll partner with Malfoy. McDougal and Parkinson, Zabini and Carmichael, Pucey and Boot, Bulstrode and Carrow…"

At some point, Harry stopped listening to Black listing out the rest of the groups and instead he glanced at Draco to see that the blond was watching him via the corner of his eyes. He was being discreet, but Harry definitely knew Draco was staring at him. Why, was the first question, and what was the second.

What Harry wouldn't give to know what Draco was thinking. Too bad he wasn't a mind reader.

…

"Hey!" Harry called as he ran after Draco once class was dismissed for the day. "Wait up!"

Draco didn't glance back, but he did slow his stride and Harry caught up to him. "What do you want, Potter?"

"What did you mean back there?" Harry asked in a whisper, realizing that Draco probably didn't want to have this conversation in public, but when would they get a chance to talk otherwise?

They were supposedly notorious enemies, although Harry didn't consider their situation like that. They simply weren't friends and because they weren't in the same house, they didn't really get a chance to talk other than brief interactions in class and in the hallways. This was Harry's best chance to figure out what Draco meant. Really, Harry thought wryly, if Hermione were here she'd know exactly what was up. He could be rather dense at times.

Draco, this time, blatantly rolled his eyes. "You're thick in the head."

"Just tell me."

"Potter," Draco hissed in a way that he hadn't done all this year yet or even last year, but Harry remembered the less than friendly way Draco used to converse with him all too well, "you stare at me all through class. People are noticing. What is your problem?"

Harry blinked and looked around surreptitiously. He saw that a few of their classmates had straggled behind, obviously trying to figure out what was going on between him and Draco. Just figured that _this_ would be interesting. There was going to be a Triwizard Tournament and he still couldn't escape the notice of his peers. They loved gossiping about him.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Harry muttered.

"You wouldn't, would you?" Draco mused, not sounding quite as agitated.

Harry tried to scowl, tried to convey he wasn't happy with the turn of situation, but he didn't really care. This was so small in the big scheme of things. "What are they saying?" he asked. "I hadn't heard anything."

"Mostly because Slytherins know how to keep their mouths shut," Draco retorted.

"Then what were they saying before you shut them up."

Draco looked away. "They say you look at me."

"I do," Harry admitted, still not seeing what the big deal was all about.

Draco ran a hand through his white blond hair. "They say you must be interested in me."

"I am."

Draco immediately turned his head until they were staring at each other. "Are you serious, Potter?"

"You aren't what I expected," Harry responded. "I guess I thought you'd be just like you were first year, arrogant and snooty. I know you've still got your blood prejudices, but you aren't as bad as you could be."

"You're unbelievable," Draco said, shaking his head.

"You can't believe that I could change my opinion about you?" Harry inquired.

"You're unbelievably dense," Draco clarified. "You don't get the 'interested in me' part, do you?" Draco sighed and Harry was simply bewildered. "People think you like me, Potter. They think you're queer for me. Is that plain enough?"

Harry felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head after Draco had finished explaining what he meant. He had been confused until Draco had stated it bluntly. He just didn't think like that and he certainly didn't like Draco like that. That was absurd. He was a boy and Draco was a boy. Boys didn't do that with other boys… that was…

Harry suddenly blushed when he remembered that he had once walked in on Remus and Sirius embracing… like James and Lily did. It had made his cheeks all red and hot. He hadn't really understood then, but when he'd asked Remus about it later he had been told he would understand when he found someone special for himself. There was nothing wrong with doing such things with someone you cared about deeply.

He hadn't necessarily been taught by his parents or Remus and Sirius that it was wrong for two men to be together. It was just from what he had seen growing up, being queer wasn't looked upon too fondly by the wizarding world. After all, two wizards couldn't make any children and neither could two witches, but a wizard and a witch? Now that was a pairing the wizarding world was all for to keep their dwindling population from further dwindling.

"Earth to Potter!"

Harry blinked and his eyes refocused on Draco. "Yes?"

"You're hopeless," Draco declared. "How the bloody hell are you so good at magic?"

Hermione had once pondered the same question aloud, but that had been during first year when she had been annoyed at how easily and intuitively spells were for him when he was such a daydreamer. Harry knew he wasn't as brilliant as Hermione was at theory, but even though he might not be as theoretically inclined that didn't mean he didn't understand how to work a spell. It was just like breathing, to perform a spell for the most part.

It wasn't like he could do every spell so easy. After all, he was pretty much rubbish at Transfigurations.

"Innate talent?"

"More like sheer dumb luck," Draco retorted.

Harry smiled and he saw the quirk of Draco's own lips as he suppressed returning the smile. "Well, don't worry," Harry remarked, "your virtue is safe."

Draco actually smiled a little at that. "You best be off to your keeper before she comes and tracks you down."

The sad part, Harry thought, was that he couldn't make a comeback to that when Draco's words were rather accurate about Hermione.

"Oh and Potter?"

Harry glanced back at Draco. "Malfoy?"

"I know I'm gorgeous, but try not to stare so much? If we're going to be partners on this project, it'd be a lot easier on me if you did your share of the work." With that said, Draco turned and left Harry to watch him saunter off.

Harry grinned momentarily, shaking his head slightly before he too walked away.

…

"Are you going to put your name in the cup?" Seamus asked, the question directly clearly at his best mate, Seamus.

"I reckon not," Dean remarked. "That speech this morning was bloody scary."

"But wouldn't it be awesome if your name was drawn?" Seamus said with excitement coloring his voice. "I wonder what mum would say if 'Seamus Finnigan' popped out of the cup. Bet she'd be proud of me."

"I'm going to put my name in," Ron declared.

"You're only a fifth year!" Angela said, herself a seventh year.

Ron's twin older brothers, Fred and George grinned to each other. "Dumbledore did say anyone would be allowed to put their name in the Cup, but he didn't say anyone would be chosen," Fred or was it George that said it?

"I have just as much chance as either of you!" Ron exclaimed, his face flushed with indignation.

"Ah, but we know advanced, upper year spells that you don't," George said.

"_And_ we're much more clever," Fred added.

Harry and Hermione sat in the back of the common room, not joining in on the conversation that was currently taking place in the center of the room. Harry wondered if Ron didn't see the twinkle in the Twins' eyes. His brothers were teasing him. Fred and George liked digging metaphorical elbows into Ron's side at any given opportunity, but they did care for their brother and they didn't really stand for others picking at him – at least not too much.

"Are you going to put your name in?" Hermione asked quietly.

Harry shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it."

He had been too busy thinking about Draco and what had happened earlier. For some reason, he still hadn't told Hermione about the project or about the fact he would soon have to be spending quite a bit of time with the Slytherin to work on their project, which would invariably cut into the time where Hermione and him mutually studied together in the library. He was a little worried she would be miffed, but honestly he just didn't want to tell her. He wanted to keep this to himself and he didn't really understand why. It was unusual because he usually told Hermione everything.

"I think you should," she said, her eyes flickering briefly to Ron and then back at him. "If he does, you should."

"If he does," Harry responded, "I shouldn't."

"He'll forgive you one day."

Harry watched Ron arguing with his brothers and boasting at the same time that in spite of the fact he was a fifth year, he had just as much of a shot of being named the Hogwarts champion. It probably looked like to the others that Ron had a big head, Harry thought, but he didn't think that was the case. Ron just wanted some attention, some reason to stand out in the crowded Weasley clan. But was it so wrong to be mediocre?

Harry wished he didn't stand out. He wished he didn't have everyone's attention. It wasn't always good, didn't Ron understand that?

"I don't think so," Harry replied, still looking at Ron. Not once did Ron glance his way.

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault."

Hermione grabbed him by the wrist and he turned his head to her. "It was an accident."

"Still my fault."

"You didn't kill her."

Harry shrugged and yanked his arm from Hermione's grip. "Can we stop talking about this?"

"You never want to talk about it."

Her tone was accusatory and he instinctively winced. Harry didn't like making her upset, not if he could avoid it, but he really hated talking about that incident. It didn't matter if it had happened three days ago or three decades ago, instead of three years ago. He would never be comfortable talking about it and he found that if he didn't think about it, all was relatively well. In the back of his mind, he knew one day he would have to confront the situation, but for now he was satisfied with suppressing the painful memory.

"_Harry_…"

"Stop," he said. "Please?"

She looked reluctant at first, but eventually he saw the gradual acceptance that she would let it go for now. Hermione would bring it up again and again until he finally talked about it, got over it to her satisfaction. The only problem was he didn't think he could ever get over it. Ginny Weasley had died and it was all his fault.

…

"My Lord Voldemort," Lucius Malfoy said as he bowed low to his Master as a Servant should, "everything is set to motion as you wished."

"Good," Voldemort said in his darkly rich voice that held such power in words and spells. "Well done, Lucius."

"My Lord, if I may but make an inquiry?" Lucius asked with slight trepidation for one did not simply ask the Dark Lord anything, not without the awareness one was an ant that could be stomped upon at any moment by a giant.

"Go on," Voldemort said and it was impossible to tell if he was amused or annoyed.

This was imprudent of Lucius, but he had to ask. "Why such elaborate schemes for the Potter boy?"

"Are you questioning me?"

Lucius gulped, terrified inside, and yet not willing to back down, not when he had the Malfoy arrogance _and_ pride. "I am curious as to the importance of the boy, for he must be important."

"He is of some consequence," Voldemort responded finally, much to Lucius' relief. "I do not make plans for naught."

"And his importance?" Lucius continued, knowing he was pushing things a little too far even if he was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted servants.

"I allowed one question, Lucius," Voldemort said, raising a finger up, "I have answered it and now you ask me of another? I think it is not wise for a Servant to question their Master."

Lucius was paralyzed as Voldemort pointed his finger at him. He should not have been impertinent. He should not have asked the question. He should have trusted his Master completely. For where was trust, if it was not given both ways?

Lucius dropped to his knees before the Dark Lord and said, "Forgive me, Master."

"Lucius," Voldemort murmured, saying his name like a caress, "I do not forgive mistakes, although I will take amends for such foolishness. Do make sure everything goes to plan with your son. I would hate for Regulus to have to make unexpected adjustments and I am certain Severus would like to remain completely in the shadows."

"I understand," Lucius said.

Voldemort lowered his finger reluctantly instead of casting the Cruciatus Curse at Lucius. He still well remembered the lessons he had learned from Grindelwald. It was better to instill more respect and some fear in your subordinates than to instill less respect and more fear. It tended to make them more loyal and so far it had worked brilliantly.

"You are dismissed."

Lucius rose to his feet, bowed once again, and then left – lucky not to be trembling in pain. If he had glanced back, which of course he did not dare, he would have seen the small smile on Voldemort's lips as he contemplated his next move. Which piece should he use next? Regulus or Draco? Or was it time for Severus to come into the picture?

_To be continued…_

* * *

Released on June 14, 2009


	4. All the Injustices of the World

**FROM THE ASHES**

By Yih + Nenya Entwhistle

* * *

_4. All the Injustices of the World_

It was the same dream - _no_ - the same nightmare again.

_Harry was on his knees, in a pool of blood, his hands were wet from pressing futilely on the wound in Ginny's chest. It was hopeless, he knew, but he did not remove his hands. Harry dared not look up at her face because he didn't want to see her lifeless eyes, her pale face, her utter stillness. Harry stared instead at the blood still trickling out of her, leaking onto the floor, covering the ground with her life source. _

_The basilisk was in the background, hissing, and not for the first time and not for the last time – Harry wished he was not a parselmouth. ~The heir of Slytherin has returned! Salazar's work will be done! The heir will erase all the mudbloods from Hogwarts! Together we will purify the school again! It will be as it is meant to be! Hogwarts will be ruled by Purebloods!~ _

_Moments before, Harry had remembered turning around, wanting to look the basilisk straight in the eye, wanting the monster to strike him dead with her devastating eyes, but the basilisk refused to take his life away with a single gaze. The basilisk bent her head down to the ground in subservience and Harry wished dearly that this moment could be erased, that Ginny had not run into the Chambers of Secrets with him, that she had not sought to protect him from the basilisk. He would have willingly died for her and this monster, who saw him as her Master, would not have harmed him, not when he was a parselmouth. _

_Ginny, though, for all that she was a Pureblood - she had gotten in the way and that was unforgivable! _

_~Unforgivable! Unforgivable! Unforgivable!~ the basilisk had screamed in fury just before she had sunk her poisonous fangs into Ginny –– _

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, trembling. The dream was, of course, absurd. How could he be the heir of Slytherin? That was most definitely Voldemort. Unless the basilisk had been referring in general to Voldemort, but then why would she say the heir of Slytherin has returned? Voldemort had never left.

Harry wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt and rolled onto his side to look at the time. It was bloody two o'clock. He didn't need to get up for at least another four hours, longer if he rushed through his morning ablutions. Harry sighed and sprawled out on his bed fitfully. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering when and hoping it would be soon that sleep took mercy on him.

It was nearly dawn before he finally fell into a restless sleep.

…

"Do I have food on my face or something?" Harry asked a bit more sharply than he meant at Hermione, but he was tired after waiting hours to fall back to sleep.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Hermione remarked.

Harry flicked his eyes with annoyance toward Neville, who could usually be counted upon to sympathize with him against Hermione, except this time Neville gave a nod toward Hermione. Harry glared at both of them before wiping his mouth vigorously with his napkin just in case there really was something on his face. Hermione watched him patiently, her steady eyes never straying from him.

"What?" Harry finally asked in complete irritation.

Hermione glanced toward Neville and he shrugged. She sighed and directed her gaze back at Harry. "You didn't sleep well, did you?"

Harry averted his eyes to his almost empty plate. "I had some insomnia."

"It was more than that," Neville said softly. "You had that nightmare, didn't you?"

Harry lifted his head up quickly. "Why do you think that? I've stopped—"

Neville shook his head and bent his head toward Harry and Hermione. "I heard you last night. You were speaking parseltongue."

Hermione cleared her throat and Harry braced himself for whatever she was going to say, which was unlikely to be something he wanted to hear this early in the morning. For all her good intentions, Harry would have appreciated a bit more restraint from her. Although as his best friend, she had certainly earned the right to say whatever was on her mind.

"Go on," Harry encouraged, knowing full well that she was bursting to say something.

"You know you can talk to either of us," Hermione said diplomatically.

Harry waited, but she didn't say anything else. Instead she picked up her fork and started scraping the rest of the eggs on her plate onto her toast. Harry watched her finish up the rest of her breakfast. He was fascinated by the fact Hermione wasn't giving him a full blown lecture about keeping things to himself when he had her and Neville. Maybe she realized it wasn't always good to push too hard.

Harry glanced at Neville and the other boy smiled at him then winked slightly. Harry blinked and his eyes drifted back to Hermione. She was drinking her milk now, but he noticed that her fingers on her other hand were tapping restlessly against the table. Neville must have said something. Harry smiled gratefully back at him.

Hermione set her finished glass down and stood up. "Ready for class?"

Both Harry and Neville nodded as they too got up. It was Tuesday morning and it was time for Herbology, the only class where they got to work as a group of three together. Most of the other classes they had together, if they did work with someone else, it was in pairs. Harry watched Neville as he walked next to Hermione, wondering at how different they looked together compared to Ron and her.

Neville was shorter and stockier than Ron, but they didn't bicker endlessly like Hermione had with Ron. They actually seemed to be a good fit together, although Harry wasn't really sure if either of them were interested in each other. They wouldn't make a bad couple, but Harry kind of hoped that nothing would come to interfere with their friendship. It was nice, being a trio, but he knew someday it would change.

Maybe the three of them would just stay friends. Harry knew for sure that there was only friendship between him and Hermione. She was like the sister he'd never had and he knew he was the brother she'd been missing. And Neville, well, he was like a brother to Harry and probably the same for Hermione, probably.

Harry didn't want anything to change, but it was inevitable, wasn't it? Nothing ever stayed the same.

"Hey," Hermione said, looking back over her shoulder, "hurry up!"

Harry grinned cheekily as he ran to catch up to them, settling on Hermione's right side since Neville was on her left. It was comfortable, Harry thought, walking besides them as they talked about nothing in particular on the way to Herbology class. Neville's voice was excited and Hermione and Harry shared a smile at his exuberance.

Once you got to know Neville, Harry thought, you realized how extraordinary he really was.

…

"Where are you going?" Neville asked when Harry started heading in the opposite direction from the library.

It wasn't a strange question. Harry typically accompanied Neville to the library to study while Hermione went on to her Arithmany class. Hermione also stopped when Neville did and looked back at him with an equally questioning gaze.

"I'm going to meet Draco in the Slytherin commons," Harry said. "We both have a free period right now."

"You have a project or something?" Neville inquired.

Harry nodded, more concerned with how Hermione would take the announcement than Neville. Neville was a really trusting type of bloke, not suspicious of anything unless it was exceedingly conspicuous. Harry liked that about Neville, although it could be a downside as well when Neville couldn't perceive when someone was cheating the blimey out of him.

"You two seem to be getting on well," Hermione remarked. "Is this a Dark Arts project?"

She sure was perceptive, Harry mused. She got it all without him even having to tell her. Sometimes it was a little scary to be Hermione's friend, having all that focus directed at him. It was almost like she was constantly analyzing him.

"It is," Harry confirmed.

"Be careful," Hermione said.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her because she did mean well and she did have reason to be suspicious of Draco, considering everything. Of course, things were different now. At least, Harry would like to think so. Draco and him were getting along. They might not exactly be friends, but they were socially amicable. That was something, wasn't it? Especially factoring in how poorly they got along prior to this.

"I won't do anything foolish," Harry said, lifting his hand to wave them off.

"We'll meet you in the Great Hall for lunch!" Neville said and gave him a quick wink before grabbing Hermione by the hand and dragging her with him to the general direction of both the library and her Arithmancy classroom. "See you then!"

All Hermione had the chance to say was a quick, "Bye!"

Harry shook his head in amusement before he started heading to the Slytherin commons. It was quite a walk from the Herbology greenhouse to the dungeons where the Slytherins resided. The Hufflepuff's domain was basically at the opposite end of the castle, and it was just like Draco to make him walk over to him. Harry's lips quirked up into a partial smile. Maybe Draco hadn't changed that much; maybe Harry was just seeing him clearly for the first time, without Ron's prejudice clouding his vision.

Of course, the same could be said about Draco and his adamant dislike for the Weasley family and his opinion on muggleborns. Maybe, just maybe Harry could open Draco's eyes a little. Even that much would be enough, especially when Draco was a bit more level-headed than Ron. Harry didn't think it was impossible with him. Draco couldn't possibly be more stubborn than Ron.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that when he took the final turn before he'd hit the stairs that led down to the dungeons, he ended up running into someone taller, bigger than him. He ended up tripping over the longer legs and would have fallen on his arse if the other person hadn't grabbed him by the arm.

"Thanks!" Harry said, smiling gratefully. "I wasn't watching where I was—"

"Potter," Snape snapped, "where might you be going at this hour? Do you not have class to attend?"

Harry instantly tensed up, Professor Snape had a way of always making him feel like he was doing something wrong even when he wasn't. Harry really wished that Snape would see that he wasn't his father, that he was a good deal like his mum, but he knew that was never going to happen. Snape was going to hold on to his grudge forever it seemed.

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, looking down at his shoes, not wanting to see the derision he was sure was on Snape's face. "I'm going to meet Malfoy to… um, work on our Dark Arts project. I have a free period now and so does he."

"Malfoy does indeed have a free period," Snape confirmed. "I must commend him for coercing you into doing some academic work."

Harry bit his tongue, knowing full well it wasn't worth getting saying anything back in defense. Snape already anticipating and all it would do was only confirm how much like James Potter he was. Harry was pretty certain that his father and Snape had had their share of verbal battles, and as much as he loved James, Snape probably came out on top with his ability to manipulate words.

"I guess I'll be going then," Harry said lamely.

Even though Harry said that, he didn't move from his prone location until Snape turned away from him and headed wherever he was going. It was a little odd, though, Harry thought watching Snape walk away from the dungeons and his Slytherin headquarters. Where could he be going? Maybe Snape was heading toward the main hall, perhaps to the Great Hall? But then Snape took an interesting turn that led down to the Dark Arts classroom.

Harry filed away that interesting tidbit of information. Did Professor Black and Snape know each other? How old was Professor Black anyway? He looked younger than Snape and the rest of the Marauders. Professor Black was likely two or three years younger, and it was certainly possible Snape could be acquaintances with Black from their school years. Anything was possible.

Harry was still lost in thought when he was startled by Draco tapping him on the shoulder and peering at his face with his own. "I wonder what was keeping you," Draco remarked, turning to gaze in the direction of Harry's. "I didn't know the hallway here was so fascinating."

Harry blinked at Draco's sudden appearance. "Sorry! I literally ran into Snape."

"And it paralyzed you, obviously. I suppose Professor Snape would be able to do that to you. He does seem to wield quite a gaze and tongue whenever you happen to be around."

Harry nodded dumbly as his mind was processing the sarcastic teasing quality of Draco's voice. Not that Draco wasn't usually a bit sharp with his words, but this seemed to have a friendly quality to it. Actually, Draco in general seemed to be opening up to him. It would be nice, to have another friend that wouldn't abandon him at the slightest hint that his magic wasn't all light. Was it his fault he happened to be a parselmouth?

"Potter," Draco began.

"Harry," he said, "call me Harry."

Draco looked dubiously at him. "I suppose I could do you the favor."

Harry smiled brightly and Draco just rolled his eyes at him. There was something different about being with Draco compared to Hermione and Neville. It was nice change of pace. And in a way, Harry got the feeling that Draco might understand some of his Slytherin tendencies better than even Hermione.

"_You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that –" _the sorting hat had told him.

Instead he had gone with Gryffindor, the house of both his parents and his godfather, of everyone he knew that was important to him. Harry hadn't regretted his decision. Only his mum had ever known that he could have sorted into Slytherin. He had never told anyone else, not even Hermione.

In the end, Lily's advice then still resonated with him: _"You are a human being and you have been born with the gift of free will and Slytherin was a choice you chose not to make. You decided upon Gryffindor and because there is no going back, you must make the best of your decision. And no matter if you had been Slytherin or Gryffindor, I could not be more proud of you, my son." _

He really did miss her.

"Come on, _Harry_," Draco said, waving his hand in front of Harry's face, "I don't have all day to waste on your daydreaming."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "To the Slytherin commons, then?"

Draco nodded and motioned for Harry to follow after him. Harry was glad that Draco had decided to come find him after the hundredth or so turn or twist that they took to get down to the Slytherin commons. He wondered if his head was spinning or not. Harry almost sighed with relief when he saw the crest of Slytherin on the door. How did anyone find their way here?

"I guess it is true," Draco remarked, "that Salazar Slytherin made this part of the castle difficult to find for any member not of his house."

"What?" Harry said dumbly.

"It's just a rumor, but Salazar Slytherin built this part of the castle and manipulated it with ancient magic that he imbued into the stones that supposedly protects Slytherins by making it difficult for members of other houses to find their way to the Slytherin commons and dorms." Draco paused. "Who knows if it's true or not?"

"It might be," Harry responded. "I'm certainly twisted around."

Draco laughed. "That probably says more about you than anything else."

Harry felt his cheeks burn a little with embarrassment and he looked away, again struck by how different Draco was from what he originally thought. For the first time, Harry truly wondered what it would have been like to be sorted in Slytherin. Would he have become good friends with Draco? Best mates, even?

"_Scientia potentia est_," Draco said and the door to Slytherin opened.

"That seems something Ravenclaws would use as their password," Harry said as he walked into the commons.

The common room was decorated in the typical colors of the house, but unlike the roomy feel of the Gryffindor commons – this room had a much more elegant feel to it. The room had the right balance of color and of furniture. Nothing looked like it didn't belong.

"Perhaps," Draco acknowledged, "but do you not agree with the sentiment? That knowledge is power?"

Harry stopped and looked back. "Do you?"

Draco nodded. "I believe the essence of power is knowledge. How can you rule wisely if you are ignorant? Without knowledge, what would guide you? You cannot rely purely on instinct. You must have some foundation of substance and that is knowledge."

Even Hermione would not find a flaw in his logic. And it was precisely the reason Harry had decided to take the Theory of Dark Arts. Because without knowing about the Dark Arts, how could he denounce it? Knowledge was important, even if he never intended to put such magic into use.

"Have you thought about what protection spell you were interested in?" Draco inquired as he took a seat at the study table in the corner. "I've been looking at several from the books I've gotten from the library." He pointed to the stacks of books in front of him. "I've marked a few that didn't seem too difficult. Of course, I'll consider your preferences too, _partner_."

"I hadn't really thought about it," Harry replied honestly.

This moment was a little like déjà vu for him because he often had this happen when he worked on projects with Hermione. She would have at least ten possibilities outlined when they met up for the first time to work on the project. Harry always came unprepared because he thought that they would discuss ideas rather than already been them ready to go and all that was needed was to pick one.

"Well then," Draco said, stacking book on book before pushing them toward Harry, "why don't you look over the ones I marked and see which one you might be interested in?"

Harry glanced at the intimidating stack of books. "You looked through all those already?"

Draco grinned widely. "Better get on it then."

Harry groaned. It was settled. Absolutely settled. Draco was the male version of Hermione.

…

"You look tired," Hermione commented a few days later as they were sitting in the corner of the library studying together after supper. "You should turn in early tonight."

Harry shook his head, pointing to the book he was reading. "This is the last one in the stack." He tilted his head to the books that were piled next to his armchair. "Once I finish this I can meet up with Draco to discuss what we're doing for the project."

"Hmm," she responded, peering over him to look at what he was reading. "_The Art of Binding Spells_." Hermione glanced down at the books on the floor. "_The Oldest, Darkest Protection Spells. Ancient Rituals of Binding. Blood Magic Protection. Sacrificial Arts of Binding. The Practice of Dark Magic. _How did you even get these books, Harry? I haven't ever seen these in the library."

"They're probably in the Restricted Area," he responded absently as he turned the page he had just finished reading.

Hermione waved her hand in front of the book until Harry looked up at her. "I've looked up binding spell books before Harry and I don't recognize half of these."

"Why would you be looking up binding spells?" he asked curiously.

She folded her arms across her chest. "For curiosity's sake," she said defensively. "_Anyway_, when I did research I would have at least seen these on the list, even if they were in the Restricted Area. These books aren't there." She paused. "Where did you get these? From your library at home? I know your mum is a Dark Artifacts specialist and probably has access to books like this…"

"It was Draco," Harry muttered. "Draco gave them for me to read. And what does it matter if these aren't in the library? Just because it's Hogwarts, doesn't mean it has every book in the world. I mean, my library at home has books Hogwarts does and vice versa."

"I was just wondering," she murmured. "Never mind. Don't stay up too late, all right?"

"I won't _mum_," Harry said deliberately.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and a brief moment later, they were both grinning like fools at each other. Hermione shut the book she was reading and yawned. She stretched her arms back and glanced back at the clock.

Harry's eyes followed hers. The time was ten 'til midnight. He hadn't even realized how late it was. He had been so engrossed with reading that the time had simply flown away, as it had every day since he had started reading through the spells Draco had flagged. He wasn't even reading everything in the books, mainly skimming the stuff that wasn't marked and reading the spells that were marked thoroughly.

Draco really had picked the interesting ones. Harry wouldn't mind attempting any of them actually, but how to narrow it down… was the dilemma. Although, some of the ones Draco had chosen would be difficult to put into practice as they required some rare ingredients that Harry had no idea how they would find.

"I'm going to turn in," Hermione declared as she stuffed her books into her bag. "And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Hermione looked pointedly at the stack of books. "Has anyone else noticed what you're reading?"

"I don't think so."

"That's good," she said and smiled. "You might not want anyone other than Neville to see those books. They might get the wrong idea."

Harry sighed, knowing exactly what Hermione was getting at. He knew that he had be careful about everything now because he certainly didn't need anymore rumors about how he was so powerful, so dangerous to go around Hogwarts and even beyond as they had before. And he had been careful to keep the books hidden from view.

"And you might not want to appear too close to Draco," Hermione added, looking away as she said this.

Harry didn't even have the energy to be annoyed and angry as he probably would have been in the past. The sad thing was Hermione was just trying to look out for him. It definitely wouldn't make his life easier if he befriended Draco and if the rest of the world knew of it. Everything was about appearances and he was skirting the edge of going over to the Dark side – and no one liked that, not when he was a parselmouth and a supposed prodigy.

"But," she said, "as long as you hide it, I don't see any harm in it."

Harry looked up at Hermione, who was standing by his chair, looking down at him. There was such sympathy and warm in her brown eyes. Harry learned over to press his head into her side and she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"Life sucks."

"Yeah," he agreed.

Hermione tousled his hair playfully before releasing her hold on him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he echoed.

…

At least, was Harry's first thought as he saw a beautiful blue-gray peregrine falcon swooping into the Great Hall, Draco hadn't used his snow-white gyrfalcon to deliver the message. Although if they were intending on keeping their communications a secret, it wasn't working at all. Because everyone at Hogwarts knew that the Malfoy family used falcons exclusively for all their owls.

"Now this is keeping things secret," Hermione commented under her breath as she stared at the haughty bird that was eyeing her and Neville suspiciously.

Harry held out his hand and the falcon lifted the leg where the message was tied and placed it into his palm. Harry gently unfastened the message and offered the falcon a piece of meat, which the falcon looked at with ambivalence before taking the offering.

"Thank you," Harry said.

The falcon stared at Harry for a second before she took off with a whoosh of her impressive wingspan. Harry watched her, caught up in the beauty of her flight, until she disappeared out of the Great Hall. It reminded him of how much he loved to fly on a broom and how much he had wanted to be on the Quidditch team, but after second year… that dream was gone.

"So what does it say?" Hermione asked, her curiosity again getting the better of her.

Harry unfurled the carefully rolled up message: _Let's meet at midnight in the Tower._

"I'm meeting with Draco tonight," he said, glancing briefly each way, "after curfew."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"He's got his cloak," Neville said, glancing over at Harry's plate. "Are you going to eat the last bacon?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry smiled as he shoved his plate in Neville's direction.

"Thanks mate," Neville said as stuck the bacon with his fork and shoved it into his mouth. "Now I'm ready for class!"

"We best get going then," Hermione remarked, standing.

Harry also got up and Neville hurried to join them. The three of them, the trio of Gryffindor walked out of the Great Hall and Harry was quite aware of the rustling of whispers behind them. But flanked as he was by Hermione on one side and Neville on the other, Harry didn't care about whatever gossip was being said.

Let them judge – because it wasn't like he could stop them.

…

"You're late," Draco remarked, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "Have I mentioned it's a pet peeve of mine? Waiting for someone?"

"You know," Harry retorted, "it's not exactly easy sneaking out past curfew."

"And yet you have the perfect method," Draco responded, nodding at the invisibility cloak in Harry's hand.

"It's not completely fool proof. I've gotten caught underneath it before."

"I can see that," Draco said, grinning.

Harry ignored Draco instead and handed him a bag that would magically shrink everything placed inside, which is where Harry had kept the books Draco had lent him. Draco took the bag and peered inside briefly before pulling it close.

"I've read through all the spells that you marked," Harry said. "They were all interesting, so I'm not really sure what to pick. I do think we should leave out the ones that require rare ingredients and we should probably not attempt any of the blood magic ones. Messing up one of those spells could be disastrous."

"Messing up any of these spells would be dangerous," Draco said. "But I agree with you, I just flagged a lot of them because they fascinated me. I didn't necessarily think all of them were appropriate for our project."

"I guess that narrows things down a bit, but there are still quite a few other spells…"

"May I make a suggestion?" Draco asked.

"Sure."

Draco opened the bag again and pulled out _Ancient Rituals of Binding_. "I don't know if you'd want to do this, but I think this binding spell would be quite useful." Draco flipped the book until he found the right page and pointed out the spell to Harry. "What do you think about this?"

_Reus in amicitia_, Harry remembered reading it was a binding spell used historically to bind enemies into friendship. It was not a spell to be taken lightly. Once performed, it could not be reversed. They would be bound to each other forever – as friends.

Hermione would caution him and disapprove, but eventually say it was his decision.

"Sounds good to me," Harry said, smiling.

Draco smiled back and Harry was suddenly aware that things were changing again, but this time in a good way.

…

Of course, for every good thing that happened a bad thing seemed to tag along. Harry was halfway to Gryffindor under his invisibility cloak when he just happened to turn a corner without checking first because it was so late, who could possibly still be out and about? With his damanable luck, Harry ran into Professor Snape for the second time this week.

"Well, well," Snape said, pulling the invisibility cloak off of Harry, "if it isn't Potter breaking curfew. The apple surely doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"

"Professor Snape," Harry said, not really knowing what else to say. He'd been caught out past curfew. There was no viable excuse and besides, it was Snape. It didn't matter if he had a reasonable explanation.

"Detention, Potter," Snape announced coldly. "Starting tomorrow you'll meet with me until the end of the week after supper, do you understand me?"

This wasn't fair. Usually students caught out past curfew were given a stern warning to never do this again and at most were given detention for a day. But because he was Harry Potter and because Snape had found it – of course the punishment was exaggerated beyond reason. Harry didn't open his mouth to argue. Knowing his luck, he'd end up having detention all month and then how would he ever get around to working on the project with Draco?

Best to keep his mouth shut and endure this. It wasn't like it was much different from the backtalking he got from his own housemates. Actually, it was probably worse from his fellow Gryffindors. They had really known him and betrayed him. Snape hadn't a clue what he was like other than to base his opinion from what he knew about James.

And yet, after five years of being Snape's class and being a rather good Potions student, why couldn't Harry change his prejudice against him?

"Yes, Professor," Harry responded dully.

"You are dismissed," Snape said sharply. "Return to your dorm."

"Yes, Professor."

_Some things,_ Harry thought as he headed back to Gryffindor Tower, _would never change. _

* * *

_To be continued…_

Released on November 18, 2009.


	5. Prejudice is Only an Excuse

**Note:** Happy (early) Thanksgiving! I hope you'll do me a favor and review this chapter. It's by far the fastest I've EVER updated this story and this chapter is even longer than the last chapter, so this is now officially the longest chapter in the series. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You made my week and you definitely helped make this release lightning fast! And I do respond to reviews!

**IMPORTANT ADDENDUM (READ THIS!!!):** Even though the Triwizard Tournament was held in Harry's 4th year, I have decided (and I have corrected the previous chapters as best as I could) to switch everything to his 5th year. Simply because, if there is romance, I think 16 has a nicer ring to it than 15 and when Harry does turn 17, it'll be after this year instead of after two more years. It also puts the entire 2nd year incident further back in the timeline.

Also check out my PROFILE and you'll find out how far I've gotten with the chapter I'm currently writing!

* * *

**FROM THE ASHES**  
By Yih + Nenya Entwhistle

_5. Prejudice is Only an Excuse_

"Blood magic has been heavily restricted by the Ministry of Magic since the 1940s after Grindelwald was defeated in the Great War," Professor Black began, his tone solemn yet carrying an inflection that captured the attention of everyone in the class. "Blood magic has been regarded as a form of the Dark Arts since the mid-millenium, even though most blood magic was originated via magic practiced and handed down through the generations.

"Within the realm of blood magic is the theory that the ties of blood creates a stronger anchor for magic to rest upon, since it relies not only upon your magical ability but also the similar magical ability of someone related to you. Blood magic, therefore, is especially effective if performed upon and with closer relatives.

"Because, if you think on it," Professor Black said gravely, "your appearance is influenced by your genetics as is your magic and performing a spell on or with someone closely related to you will create a spell that is unique to the circumstance and the individual. That is the reason why blood magic is so dangerous and so difficult to practice and succeed with. Every spell has to be tailored to the situation and the person.

"While blood magic certainly has its dark and dangerous tendencies, within it there is an aspect that I can only describe as magic in its purest and rawest form – and that is sacrificial blood magic. It is rarely performed as it requires great reserves of power and a deep desire to protect a loved one. And the only instances of it being successful has come at a great cost to the caster.

"Blood magic, as you can see, is not to be taken lightly. I have made no restrictions, thus far, as to what you might choose as a protection spell with your partners for your projects, but I will amend that with this limitation – everyone must run their spells by me first. If I decide it is too dangerous, then you will need to choose another spell. Is that understood?"

|-|-|-|-|-|

"You're an imbecile," Draco said, shaking his head as they walked out of the Theory of Dark Arts class. "You managed to get caught by Snape, of all the Professors, it has be Snape _and_ you get caught when you've got an Invisibility Cloak on you. You're something else."

"I ran into him," Harry muttered defensively.

"I suppose there's nothing we can do about it except work around it," Draco remarked. "I've already submitted our proposal to Professor Black and it should be approved. While we are doing a binding spell, it is neither of the blood or sacrificial ilk. And I don't think Professor Black will have an issue as long as it's consensual." He paused and tilted his head back toward Harry. "It is, isn't it?"

Harry nodded and Draco grinned. "What did you think about the lecture today?" he asked.

"I thought it was fascinating," Harry said. "I've never really heard about sacrificial blood magic or blood magic in such depth, other than the little I read from what you marked in those books. I can certainly understand the viewpoint of the Ministry of Magic, but if blood magic has been passed down through the many generations, what is the harm of practicing it if it does no harm?

"From what Professor Black implies, it is almost impossible to use such magic without expressed approval and that you'd only be able to if you wielded some influence with the Ministry," he said with a sigh. "Politics, I've never liked it. Always seems to complicate things more than necessary."

"And yet," Draco responded, "if there was no Ministry, what would our world be like?"

"True," Harry admitted. "Still don't like most of it."

"There are certainly aspects that could be changed, like with all things. There are definitely wizards and witches out there that want to revolutionize the bureaucracy in the Ministry." Draco looked directly at Harry with his piercing grey eyes. "There is a War going on right now because things cannot remain as they are. It is not just a War of good versus evil, light against dark; it is much more intricate than that."

And it only got more and more complex as the War dragged on. For as long as he had been alive, Harry had only known what it was like to live in constant strife. There seemed to be no end to this battle. No side would yield. It was either destroy or be destroyed. Harry was absolutely certain that only when one side was decimated would this War end.

"There must be regulation, but that doesn't mean the Ministry holds to its rigid stance against anything with a hint of darkness," Draco declared. "The Dark Arts are certainly dangerous, but Light Magic can be used just as violently. What we need is code of honor, something to follow that transcends mere law."

"To believe in the goodness of our hearts?" Harry murmured, thinking of how Lily had once passionately told him how the world would be a much better place if there was no malice, envy, or temptation. Yet, such a utopia could not be achieved without inherent good within the soul – and there was always a sinner in the midst, poised to take the advantage.

"Too bad," Draco said softly, "when there is good, there is invariably evil."

Harry sighed at the truth in those words.

"So," Draco drawled, leaning toward Harry, "when should I fit you into my busy schedule?"

Draco was so close that Harry could smell the spicy scent of whatever soap he had used this morning. "I don't have anything after Herbology on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Harry said with a gulp. "I also have Friday afternoon completely free."

"I suppose that'll do." Draco turned and Harry was struck by how close their faces were. Harry could see that Draco's irises had the faintest flick of blue within them. "We'll meet in the Slytherin commons. You can find your way there, can't you?"

"I'll manage somehow."

"Good. See you then!"

Harry was aware as he stood there, watching Draco disappear around a corner, that he was admiring the inherent grace in the which the other boy moved and it was possibly, probably a little queer of him.

|-|-|-|-|-|

There were some things that never changed and Defense against the Dark Arts was one of them – it was still Harry's favorite class. The subject matter was interesting and Professor Lupin was charismatic. There weren't many students that could honestly say they didn't like Lupin.

"Today we will be working on the shield charm, which was part of your recommended summer coursework," Professor Lupin began. "As you should know the shield charm is not the strongest of protection spells, but it is a basic one that is necessary to learn more difficult ones. This shield charm in particular will cause minor to strong jinxes, curses, and hexes to rebound upon the attacker depending on your level of magical strength behind the spell. At the very least, it will prevent the attacker's spell from having its full effect.

"To invoke the shield charm, remember you must point your wand in the direction you wish to cast the spell and say the incantation, _Protego!_" Professor Lupin demonstrated exactly what he said and a visible shield appeared from his wand. "I want you to partner up and to practice this charm. I understand quite a few of you have mastered this charm already, but it is such an important basic spell for Defense that you must learn this properly.

"At the end of the class, those who can repel an attack from me with the shield charm will be allowed to work on more advanced forms of _Protego, _which can not only deflect another's attack, but also form barriers against dark magic and physical beings. Until everyone in this class has mastered this charm, we will not progress to the next spell. This shield charm is that integral to your mastery of Defense Against the Dark Arts." Professor Lupin paused. "Now please choose your partner and practice the charm."

Harry turned to Hermione as she did to him and they mutually smiled at each other. "Would you like to go first?" he asked.

"Do you mean to attack or to defend?" she inquired.

"You tell me."

Hermione grinned as she brandished her wand and aimed it at him without hesitation. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Trust in Hermione to keep him on his toes, Harry thought as he brought his wand up quickly and exclaimed, "_Protego!"_

Her spell was strong, but his defense was stronger. Harry easily repelled her stunning spell and watched it deflect back to her, which she dodged effectively. Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see if she had inadvertently caused her spell to hit some unlucky personage behind her. They were lucky, Harry thought, that there was no one standing behind Hermione. Her attack could easily take down a fellow wizard, and it was probably enough to take down a troll.

"I'm ready," Hermione said, holding up her wand defensively.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Harry said, putting quite a bit of force behind the spell, but not his full strength. This should be enough to full Hermione. He didn't want to accidentally break through her shield charm.

"_Protego!"_ Hermione responded, her shield appearing just in time to protect her from his spell.

Harry watched his disarming charm try to push its way through her defense, looking for a moment like it would go through before it bounced weakly away from her. He winked at her and Hermione smiled in return. Harry then decided to look around the room to see how the rest of their class was doing. There were spells flying around them and shields being erected slowly and incompletely.

Harry wondered if it was a little conceited of him to think that Hermione and him were by far the best of this lot. But they were, Harry thought, as he watched shield charm after shield charm break under the weight of mediocre attack spells. It was sad to think that they were already 5th years and that soon, in about three years, they would be out in the world and part of this ongoing War.

If they didn't know the shield charm well, which was a basic defense spell, how would they ever learn the more complex ones?

"Potter," Professor Lupin said, "are you ready to demonstrate your shield charm to me?"

Harry nodded and motioned for Lupin to attack him when ready. Professor Lupin aimed his wand at Harry and said, "_Confringo!"_

The blasting curse, an advanced attack spell, was traveling swiftly toward Harry when he gripped his wand tightly and said softly, "_Protego."_

Lupin's spell, strong as it was, bounced off harmless. Professor Lupin quickly pointed his wand at the spell hurting toward him and said, _"Finite Incantatem!"_

The bright fiery curse that had been about to erupt in the classroom dissipated, completely negated. Harry could see the approval in Lupin's warm, brown eyes. He didn't necessarily regret showing his strength to his favorite Professor, but he didn't want to be too conspicuous about it either. Although Lupin had really given him no choice when he had aimed that curse at him. Harry glanced around the classroom, relieved to see that everyone was too involved with their own spellwork to pay him any attention.

"Granger?" Professor Lupin said, turning to Hermione. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," she said.

Without warning, Lupin pointed his wand at her and said, "_Confundo!"_

Hermione immediately countered, holding her wand up and exclaiming, "_Protego!_"

His confounding spell buckled against her defenses and for a moment, Harry thought that Lupin's spell might break through when it disintegrated instead as it ran out of power. The spells had been evenly matched, Harry thought, although he was certain if Lupin had wanted to shatter her shield, he could have easily done so.

"Good job, Granger." Professor Lupin looked pleased as he smiled kindly at her.  
And you too, Potter," he said, inclining his head toward Harry. "I think you two are ready for a more advanced defensive spell. In particular, I think you both can work on a shield charm that wards an area against Dark Magic. It is useful especially in situations where you wish to protect a specific location against Dark Creatures.

"The incantation is _Protego Horribilis_ and the thought process is much the same as _Protego_ in that you erect a wall of defense within your mind that you project outward as you utter the spell. The key difference is that _Protego Horribilis_ is a more diffuse spell; instead of a wall, it is more like a circular barrier, much larger in scope than _Protego_." Professor Lupin paused. "This is not an easy spell for a 5th year, indeed fully grown wizards and witches have difficulty with this spell, but I believe in your abilities. Please read of this spell in your textbook and I would like you to be ready to practice with each other and be ready to demonstrate your spell work tomorrow."

"Yes, Professor!" Hermione said, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.

"Of course," Harry murmured, more muted in his demeanor but just as excited as she was. "We will work on it tonight."

"Very good," Professor Lupin responded. "Very good."

|-|-|-|-|-|

Lately because of all the reading he had been doing, Harry hadn't been getting much sleep and while he usually went to the library with Neville and Hermione after lunch before the next class, he was too tired today. Instead Harry waved his friends off in the hallway and headed back to Gryffindor Tower for a quick nap. He climbed the curved stairway to the boy's rooms and opened the door hesitantly, relieved to find that there was no one inside. Things had gotten a bit better with Ron; he basically ignored Harry. With Seamus and Dean, they were coolly polite. Still Harry much preferred not to run into any of them if he could help it.

Harry dropped his bag on the floor by his bed and fell forward onto the plush 4-poster bed. He was about to bury himself in the covers when he noticed the music box he used to communicate with Lily was glowing, which indicated there was something within it. The box was modeled after a Dark Arts artifact that Lily had found several years ago. It was something of a shared secret between Harry and his mum, that Lily often charmed objects in a manner similar to the artifacts that she studied at her job. Lily had told him that James didn't really approve of her tinkering with the Dark Arts, but she saw no harm in the practice, especially when it proved useful. This particular box had several useful spelled into it and acted like a floo, but for objects with no messy powder involved.

James didn't really like that Harry was taking his Theory of Dark Arts class either, but Lily had told him to go ahead. What was the harm in knowledge? It was, after all, better to know too much than to know too little. When she had said that, James had shut his mouth and just shook his head, relenting.

Sometimes Harry had to agree with his mum when she'd said, _"Your dad could be such a narrow-minded git."_

Harry reached over to grab the music box from the dresser next to his bed. Last night he had sent Lily a short message that simply said_, I miss you_. He wondered what his mum would say in return to his almost childish sentiment. Harry cradled the music box gently in his hands and flipped the top open. A lullaby that Lily used to hum to him when he was a baby sweetly sang and only ceased when Harry tapped against the bottom of the box seven times. Almost instantly, what was once empty was now not. Inside the music box was a rolled up miniature parchment and an equally tiny scone with clotted cream. How like his mum to send along his favorite snack with a letter.

Harry carefully took the scroll and the scone out and aimed his wand at them. _"Engorgio!"_

What Lily had carefully shrunk before placing them into her matching music box at home quickly grew to their appropriate size. Harry set the scone aside, the letter being far more important at the moment. Harry knew he was his mum's boy and he had only stopped relying on constant communication with her during his second year, before the fiasco. And after that, he had maintained the distance, only contacting her when he absolutely had to say something to her because Harry knew that he needed to learn to stand on his own two feet. He couldn't always rely on his mum.

As his dad had once told him, _"Your mum – she loves you more than her own life and she'd coddle you forever if you let her, but you can't do that... you've got to learn to rely on your own self."_

James was right. Because even though both of his parents were wizards and would certainly live quite a long life, he couldn't keep leaning on them when things got difficult. Harry had already found that out during his second year. As much as he hated to remember what he'd gone through, the lessons he learned – what he had to endure – it had made him a better person.

And yet, as his dad also had told him, "_It's okay too, to need us sometimes. You're our son and no matter what, we'll always be there for you." _

Harry smiled at that memory, remembering how fiercely James had hugged him and he took the scroll and unrolled it. He saw his mum's familiar, slanted handwriting and it made him miss her all the more.

_My dear Harry,_

_You have been quite amiss with your letter writing of recent and to receive such a short note saying, "I miss you" is quite unacceptable. (Your dad says, "Hi" and is telling me to stop being such a "coddling mum." I will let you know, I am sticking my tongue out at him and will continue my coddling ways.) _

_On a more serious note, I do not know what is troubling you. I am certain that whatever difficulties that you may find yourself in, that you will choose the right path. You have always been a good son, (almost too good, according to your dad, who thinks you should be more reckless and rascally) and you can do no wrong in my eyes. Do what you think is best and just. I trust in your judgment. _

_I miss you so much (your dad does too!). _

_Your loving mum (and your incorrigible dad),_

_Lily Potter_

|-|-|-|-|-|

Supper was a typically busy affair at Hogwarts, students from all the houses grabbing enthusiastically at the sumptuous spread on the table and chattering amongst themselves. Harry had stolen the last drumstick from Neville and was grinning mischieviously at him. Neville was looking a little morose and Harry was about to good-naturedly offer it to him when a sudden silence fell over the Great Hall. Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors turned toward the front where the Headmaster was standing at the Professors' table.

"Ah hem!" Dumbledore said, clearing his throat. "I have a quick announcement before you students run off to study and play." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box neatly wrapped in brown paper. "This arrived earlier this afternoon and I believe you all have been patiently awaiting it." Dumbledore set the package down and aimed his wand at it. "_Aperio!_"

The plain package began to unwrap itself and the paper that covered it fell to the table. The top of the box flew open and the object within it – an insignificant little cup floated out and drifted over the table – landing with a heavy thud upon the floor. Harry watched as the tiny cup slowly and surely expanded, metamorphosing into a grand goblet that gleamed with power. Harry could feel its magical force throbbing through the Great Hall as the goblet burst into a bright blue flame. This was the start…

"The goblet of fire has arrived!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Tomorrow the contenders from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive! I hope Hogwarts will show them our hospitality and generosity of spirit!"

Dumbledore paused to let his words sink in before continuing, "You have until next week to decide if you would like to contend in the Triwizard Tournament. All you must do is write your name legibly on a piece of parchment and place it into the goblet. All students, if they wish to participate, whether from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons will undergo the same process. Once the flame has been doused, the Champions will be named and the Tournament shall begin!"

Harry gazed into the blue flame, flickering with life and power, wondering if he would dare to put his name into the goblet of fire. As much as he would like to test the strength of his magic, it wasn't wise. It would be foolish to step into the spotlight, when he'd been trying for the last three years to disappear from center stage. But… as he looked longingly at the goblet of fire… it would be wonderful to test his magic to the limits, if indeed, he was named Champion.

And he knew his mum and dad would never question him – indeed they would support him to the end.

"I will remind you for the very last time," Dumbledore said gravely, "that once you put your name in the goblet, you are signing a binding magical contract that cannot be revoked. If you so happen to be chosen as Champion, you must participate to the end. There is no turning back."

In Harry's bright green eyes, so much like his mum's, the flames of the goblet were dancing within their depths.

|-|-|-|-|-|

"You're going to be late," Hermione whispered into his ear.

Supper had ended and most of the students had already dispersed from the Great Hall, but Harry was still lingering over his mostly empty plate. He was picking at the leftovers, not really eating anymore and yet it was a distraction from what was coming. He had detention with Snape, something he'd do anything to get out of.

"You should get going," she persisted, nudging at him with her elbow. "Professor Snape left half an hour ago. He's probably waiting for you."

"I can't believe he gave me detention for the rest of the week," Harry muttered.

"At least it's already Wednesday, so it's really only half a week," she responded, trying to sound positive about the situation. "It could be worse."

"Or it could be better."

Hermione shrugged. "You're only going to get more detention if you don't arrive on time. You know Professor Snape has it out for you."

Harry sighed and got up from the table. "Hopefully," he said, "this won't take so long. If you're still awake, we can practice the new shield charm."

"You know I turn in late. I'll be waiting for you in the common room. Now get going or you'll be late!"

"I'm going," he said and left the Great Hall.

Harry trudged unwillingly to the dungeons where he was likely going to spend hours doing whatever scut work that Snape had planned for him. He was likely going to be cleaning cauldrons by his hands until they were wrinkled and sore from all the water and scrubbing.

Harry took a deep breath when he reached the door to the Potions laboratory to calm his agitated nerves. There was something about Snape that automatically got him on edge. He didn't like it, but Snape had always done this to him – ever since 1st year, when he realized he was intensely disliked.

The sad thing was that Harry actually was interested in Potions. There was something calming about brewing intricate potions when his life was in chaos. Potions didn't require as much focused concentration as spell work did, at least not until the brewing began. It was peaceful getting the ingredients together, choosing the best and then preparing them. Potions was methodical, orderly and sometimes Harry wanted something that logical in his life – especially when the world was in such disarray.

Harry steeled himself and pushed the door open to the laboratory. He was instantly transported to the world of potion-making. He could smell the musky scent of wood burning, heating the cauldron as a potion was slowly warmed to the right temperature. Harry was not surprised when he stepped in to find Snape bent over, delicately sniffing at the potion.

"Professor Snape," Harry said hesitantly, not wanting the deserve him, "I'm here."

Snape straightened up and turned in his direction. "You're late Potter." His dark eyes glanced toward the clock on the wall. "Five minutes late."

Harry wanted to open his mouth to say that Snape had never specified a time, but he didn't say anything because it was only going to get him into more trouble. He pressed his lips firmly together and said nothing.

"Detention all next week," Snape said. "Now get to work cleaning those cauldrons."

He gestured to the stacks and stacks of cauldrons that were against the wall. Snape must have been saving them for him, Harry thought. It looked like an entire day's worth of dirty cauldrons.

This wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair. Harry sighed, if only he had listened to Hermione and arrived here five minutes earlier. Then he wouldn't have been late and he wouldn't have gotten another week of detention. Hindsight was a right bitch.

In the end, he only had himself to blame. He knew Snape had it out for him and he'd given Snape another opportunity to bully him. It was his fault. It was all his fault. Harry bent over to pick up a cauldron and hoist it up to the wash basin, where he carefully slid it into the soapy water. He took the rag that was on the table and set to work scrubbing off the unsuccessful goop inside the cauldron.

This was going to be a long night and a long two weeks.

|-|-|-|-|-|

Detention had been a mostly silent affair, other than the occasional order given by Snape to do this or to do that. Harry wiped the last cauldron dry, relieved to be done. He glanced up at the clock and grimaced. It was almost midnight and Hermione was waiting for him. There was no doubt about it. If Hermione said she was going to be there, she kept her word.

Harry placed the cauldron down carefully and turned to where Snape was still working. Harry didn't know exactly what Snape was brewing, but it was a potion that he had never smelled before. It had a spicy scent, probably the herbs that had been added to it, and even a hint of fresh mint. Whatever it was, it was likely an advanced level potion that not even the 7th years would learn at Hogwarts.

Harry waited patiently until Snape had finished sprinkling the ingredient in his hand. Snape was not a handsome wizard, but he looked elegant, almost beautiful while brewing. "Professor Snape," he said, "I've finished cleaning the cauldrons."

"Is that so?" Snape said, raising his head.

Harry nodded and swallowed, his throat convulsing a little with the nerves he got when he was gazed at directly by Snape. "Do you need me to do anything else?"

"There is one thing that I require."

Harry was rooted to the spot. He gazed across the classroom at Snape, wondering what exactly Snape wanted from him. He had already cleaned all the cauldrons and it was nearly midnight. He needed to go back to Gryffindor Tower…

"Potter," Snape said, his lips twitching as he raised his wand toward Harry and shouted, "_Legilimens!_"

Harry had seen that wand being raised, being pointed at him, but Snape had uttered the spell so fast that Harry had no time to raise his own wand in defense as he had not been expecting an attack at all. Practicing with Hermione, Harry thought wryly, was not quite the same as with someone like Snape, who was a Slytherin through and through.

He did manage though to think _Protego! _just before Snape's attack hit him. Harry had no idea what this spell was about; he vaguely remembered Lily mentioning something about Legilimency once when talking to James, but he couldn't recall what exactly they had said about it. Harry assumed the _Legilimens _spell was related to Legilimency, although the assumption could be grossly wrong.

For a long moment, Harry didn't feel anything different from how he usually felt. His wordless shield charm must be working! Harry had heard about wordless magic from his mum, although he had never tried it using a defensive spell. He had experimented with wandless magic somewhat, but wandless with wordless as he had just done now was entirely new.

So Harry wasn't surprised in the least when the shield fractured and he felt the strange sensation of being caught by Snape's magic. He felt like he was not alone, that there was someone in his mind. Now he remembered. Legilimency was mind magic, specifically magic that allowed the caster to read his victim's thoughts. Harry could feel his mind being pulled into a direction that he absolutely did not want to go.

He was being dragged back in time, three years ago. Harry tried everything, tried to rip himself, his mind free, but it was useless. He had never had a spell like this cast on him and he did not know how to escape. What did you do when your mind was being violated?

Harry shut his eyes, he put his hands over his ears. He couldn't not bear to relive this memory.

_~You have come for me!~ the basilisk exclaimed as she slithered her way to Harry, her tongue flicking out rapidly. ~What do you wish of me, Slytherin's heir?~ _

"_Harry, watch out!" Ginnye exclaimed, running toward him._

"_Don't!" Harry exclaimed. "Don't—"_

_~No one comes between me and my master!~ the basilisk screamed, her eyes closed so that she wouldn't harm Harry, but her mouth was open and she was taking aim at Ginny. ~It's unforgivable! Unforgivable! Unforgivable!~_

_Harry was frantically waving his arms at Ginny, trying to get her to move out of the way, but she kept coming to him and he tried to divert the basilisk. ~No! Don't! Listen— ~_

_~Unforgivable!~ the basilisk hissed as she sunk her deadly fangs into Ginny's chest. ~Master…~_

_No!_ Harry thought. _Absolutely not!_

And it was over.

The memory.

Harry was no longer reliving it, instead he was staring into the black eyes of Severus Snape. Harry gripped his wand tightly and brandished it toward his Professor. It was against his nature to threaten others, but after what Snape had done to him – he felt entirely justified to protect himself from further harm.

"You," Snape said softly, slowly, "are free to go."

Harry couldn't read anything in those emotionless black pits for eyes. What windows to the soul? Snape probably didn't even have a soul, and if it he did it was merciless and unfeeling. Harry had always given Snape the benefit of the doubt. He had never felt hate toward Professor Snape despite the detestable way Harry was treated by him. Because he had been taught by his mum that prejudice was horrible and she wanted him to form his own opinion based on something solid.

Harry had never hated anyone in his life, but at this moment – he hated Severus Snape.

_To be continued…_

_

* * *

_

_Don't forget to review!  
_

**A/N:** This chapter probably feels like even more filler, but hopefully it's good filler? Every scene I write has a purpose, I promise. I hope that you enjoyed seeing a bit more of Snape, who will factor in prominently in the story in some capacity, although the preference seems to be for Draco or Voldemort if there is a relationship, which there may be or may not be. It really depends on how things develop! So keep reviewing and letting me know what you think, what you like, any suggestions you have. I do listen and it does make me thing and that's a good thing!

The next chapter is much anticipated beginnings of the Triwizard Tournament! (How exciting, and I'm already dreading writing it! So encouragement is highly necessary!)

Released on November 24, 2009.


	6. The Hand Fate has Dealt

**Note:** I do apologize that it has taken two months to update this story. The chapter is fairly long and it's hard to write a chapter this long without rewriting a scene or two when you realize something doesn't work out quite the way you wanted to. I ended up having to discard an 800 word scene that rambled without adding anything to the plot. I rewrote the start of it twice before I finally got to what I wanted it to be like, but that kept me stuck for a week.

Mostly I was busy taking my shelf exam for Internal Medicine and then getting a much-needed Christmas break and once I was back… getting back into the groove of medical school and starting up my Pediatric rotation. I cannot say how much the reviews have meant to me. I go back and read them and how much you guys enjoy reading this story means a lot to both of us!

I hope you guys continue to read and support us!

* * *

**FROM THE ASHES**  
By Yih + Nenya Entwhistle

_6. The Hand Fate Has Dealt_

Hermione was waiting for him in the commons like she promised, fast asleep with a book lying open on her lap. Harry shook his head and took out an old pocket watch that used to belong to his grandfather that Lily had given him. It was half past midnight, quite late, even for Hermione.

Harry pulled the book from her lap and set it on the table. He looked down briefly and saw that she had been reading up on _Protego Horribilis._ How like her to do some preparations before the practice. Harry gently brushed some hair that had fallen over his face and stared at her face. Hermione had become quite pretty over the years. His mum had offhandedly remarked that his best friend was going to turn into a real beauty one of these days.

He knew exactly what Lily had been angling at – Hermione and his mum got along fabulously. Too bad, he wasn't interested in Hermione in that way and he was sure that Hermione felt the same way about him. The only boy Harry ever knew she had ever liked was Ron Weasley. She probably still liked him and Ron probably still liked her, but because of him… neither of them would act on it.

She would not betray him, not ever, not after what had happened.

Harry gently picked Hermione up, careful not to wake up and carried her up the curving stairwell that led to the girls' dormitories. At the entrance, he knocked softly until Parvati cracked open the door. Harry smiled apologetically and noddedd own at Hermione.

"She fell asleep studying again?" Parvati asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"Bring her in then," Parvati said, stepping aside so that he could enter the room.

The spells that bound the room, prohibiting boys from walking in tried to wrap around his body, but Harry pushed onward, forcing his way past the barriers. He wondered if Parvati and the rest of the Gryffindor girls knew what he had to do to carry Hermione up to her bed when she did fall asleep in the commons. They must have an inkling, and yet, they hadn't told anyone about this.

For that, Harry was grateful.

"I've got it from here," Parvati said as Harry set Hermione onto her bed.

It had gotten easier with practice, walking into the girls' dormitories, but still, after a few minutes his limbs began to feel leaden. Harry nodded in acquiescence and he escaped from the room before the protection spells could crush him. Once he crossed the threshold, he felt lighter, freer, not so burdened.

"Thanks for bringing her back," Parvati said before shutting the door.

Harry was pretty sure that she didn't hate him and that was sort of a relief.

|-|-|-|-|-|

"I can't believe I fell asleep last night!" Hermione exclaimed as they walked together to the Great Hall.

"Well," Harry remarked, "I did come back after midnight."

"You were in detention for that long?" Neville asked, his voice incredulous.

"Don't remind me," Harry muttered.

"Did you do something?" Hermione asked.

"Why do you think I did something?"

She stopped moving and folded her arms over her chest. "You tell me."

"Okay," Harry admitted, "I was late, so he gave me another week of detention _and—" _

"And?" she persisted.

Harry motioned for Neville and her to come closer to him. "He used Legilimency on me," he said softly.

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth so that she didn't draw any more attention toward them; after all, the three of them standing there was conspicuous enough. "That's mind rape," she uttered, keeping her voice down. "You should tell the Headmaster, Harry. That's a serious violation. I don't care if Professor Snape doesn't like you, that's going too far."

"I'd rather not have anything to do with Dumbledore," Harry murmured, looking away from her. "You should know why."

"But Harry –"

"Don't Hermione," Neville said, shaking his head at her. He looked at Harry and asked, "Do you think the Professor is going to do it again? You do have quite a few detentions lined up with him."

Harry nodded. "He went straight for _that_ memory."

Hermione's face went white. "Are you sure you won't go to the Headmaster?" she asked quietly.

"He doesn't trust me," Harry said. "And I can't trust him. Just leave it."

Hermione let out a ragged breath and linked her arm into his. "I've read a bit about Legilimency," she said, leaning against him. "There's a way to counteract it through Occlumency. I can find books in the library to teach us. It might not be easy, but you're rather good at magic when you need to be."

Harry laughed a little. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," Neville remarked wryly. "I'm never good at magic when I need to be."

|-|-|-|-|-|

The Great Hall was bustling with activity, the students at every table were chattering even more amongst themselves than usual. Hermione gave Harry an odd look and he shrugged his shoulders. Harry looked over to Neville and he too shrugged.

The trio headed to the Gryffindor table and sat near where the the rest of their fellow 5th years were seated with a small space of separation. Harry smiled gratefully at Parvati and she smiled faintly back at him before returning to the conversation she was having with Lavendar. But it was what Ron was talking about with Dean and Seamus that drew Harry's attention.

"They say there's a half-veela amongst the Beauxbatons!" Ron exclaimed.

"Really?" Dean asked, not sounding like he really believed him.

"That's what my brothers say," Ron responded, nodding toward the twins at the far end of the table where the 7th years sat. "You know their sources are bloody good."

Both Dean and Seamus had to nod their heads at that.

"I wonder what she'll be like," Seamus remarked. "Will she still be as gorgeous as a full veela?"

"Dunno what a half-veela will be like, but we'll find out soon," Dean said. "Aren't they supposed to come today, some time?"

Harry quickly turned to Hermione, who also looked a little surprised at what Dean had said, but thinking back to supper last night – the Headmaster had said that the contenders from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would be arriving sometime today. He had just forgotten it because of the _intense_ detention session with Snape last night and Hermione had likely been so busy trying to prepare for Defense against the Dark Arts that it had slipped her mind. And Neville, well, didn't have the best of memories.

Harry turned to the chubby boy sitting next to Hermione, happily stuffing himself with breakfast foods. Harry smiled a little as he recalled the Remembrall incident, when he had his first issue with _Draco_ and when he had become chums with Neville. It was a good memory for him, for all that it should have been a disastrous one.

"Are you going to put your name in the goblet?" Dean asked.

"I reckon not," Seamus said. "I don't like the idea of a binding magical contract. Mum always cautioned me on such stuff."

"I'm going to," Ron declared. "I'm going to put my name in."

It didn't surprise Harry that Ron would say something like that. Ron was always trying to prove himself for some reason. Harry had only been able to see this clearly after their friendship had dissolved. Harry didn't understand why Ron felt this incredible urge to show others up, to be better anyone else. In that way, Ron and Draco were a lot alike. Maybe he didn't get it because what Harry wanted was to fade into the background. He didn't want to be special.

"Are you going to?" Hermione asked so softly only he could possibly hear her. "Are you going to put your name in?"

Harry glanced sideways at Hermione, surprised she'd even ask. "Why would I?" he inquired quietly.

"You should know why I would need to ask," she murmured.

Of course, Hermione would know his temptation – his desire to test his limits. It wasn't a desire to prove himself, to show his magic off like Ron. On his part, it was true curiosity. Was he as strong, as brilliant in magic as everyone seemed to believe that he was?

If so, wouldn't taking part in the Triwizard Tournament as Champion be the ultimate challenge?

"I won't allow myself," Harry stated firmly. "I can't allow myself."

"Harry—" Hermione began.

"_Hermione_," Harry said, "I've tried for three years to be normal and I finally feel like I'm getting."

She sighed, but whatever more she wanted to say… she didn't, and strangely he found himself disappointed that she didn't press even as he found himself relieved.

|-|-|-|-|-|

Energy. That's what was overflowing everywhere. Energy and excitement. Everyone was talking about Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, _or_ the Tournament. It was unavoidable and inevitable. Harry was certain it was being talked about outside of Hogwarts just as much as inside. After all, the last time the Triwizard Tournament had occurred was two centuries ago.

"This is a bit excessive," Hermione muttered as the three of them walked to Herbology.

"But understandable," Neville remarked, not looking up from his Encyclopedia on Botany.

She sighed as he was absolute correct. "I'm glad you've some sense, Harry. I thought for sure you would want to put your name in the goblet."

He was tempted to be sure. Hermione was not entirely off base. It was just too risky, too _as she said_ foolish. He was finally getting to where he wanted to be. The other Gryffindors were started to acknowledge him a bit, at least not ignoring him like they had before. He didn't want to go back to that existence again.

"It's better this way," Hermione said. "The tournament's dangerous. I read about it some last night. It was discontinued because the last time it was hosted two of the champions died and all the Heads of the Schools were injured because the cockatrice that was supposed to be caught went on a rampage. Those aren't the first deaths either. Some hundred or so champions have either been died or been injured severely over the years

"I'm glad you're not participating," she said firmly. "Then I don't have to worry."

"Then I won't," Harry promised, linking arms with her. "Since worrying is a very unhealthy flaw of yours."

Hermione rolled her eyes and squatted him away. "Neville," she said, looking over her shoulder at the other boy where he was walking behind them his head still in his book, "hurry up or we'll be late to class!"

Harry fought to hold back a grin when Neville's head went up and he started hurrying toward the glasshouse where Professor Sprout held Herbology. That was one class where Neville was never late and never forgot.

|-|-|-|-|-|

"Let's research _you know what_," Hermione said, looking meaningfully at Harry.

"Um," Harry said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "I sort of told Draco I'd meet him after Herbology since I've detention with Snape and no real time to work on our project except when I've got free periods like this." He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"I suppose I can look it up without you," she muttered.

"You don't have to," Harry said. "I'll look it up with you later."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and whenever she did that, she reminded Harry more of a mother-figure than his best friend. "When will you have time, considering every evening you'll be in detention? Besides," she continued, "I have the time and you have something to do. And it's important we know more about _this_ if you're going to get through these detentions without going haywire." She paused. "I know how it affects you… that memory."

Harry briefly shut his eyes, but opening them before he would flash back to that horrid event. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Hermione smiled and waved him off. "Now go and do that project of yours."

Harry smiled gratefully back, relieved especially when he saw that Neville was tagging along with her to the library. Hermione didn't really have many friends aside from him and Neville, especially after she sided with him against Ron and basically losing that friendship and whatever else they might have had.

Did she ever regret it?

Harry remembered that hopeful look on Ron's face that first night at the Welcoming Feast. Hermione had talked a little to Ron, but had otherwise ignored him since then. Hermione was loyal to a fault and she hadn't forgiven Ron for thinking the worst of Harry without evidence. Albeit, it was understandable. His sister was dead. Ginny was dead.

And nothing would ever change that.

|-|-|-|-|-|

"And here I thought," Draco drawled as he motioned for Harry to take a seat on the sofa next to him, "you were either lost or not going to come at all."

"I'm not that late," Harry said defensively.

Draco glanced up at the wall in the Slytherin commons. "You're hardly on time. It's been a good half hour since Herbology was let out."

Harry sat down on the soft cushions, sinking into them. "It's not like I was trying to be late. As you guessed, I got lost."

"Hopeless," Draco muttered. "Utterly hopeless."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, I apologize for being late."

"I suppose that'll do." Draco tossed the book that he was reading over to Harry. "Read that passage I've got marked. It is an excerpt from some wizard's memoirs from the 16th century detailing his personal experience with the _Reus in amicitia_ spell. It's quite enlightening."

As Harry read the ornate, old English script, he could see why Draco would say such a thing. The binding spell between Perseus Drake and Matthias Herald to promote the peace amongst the two feuding families ended up with an unusual solution to the predicament. Not only did the two join their families by their forced bond of friendship, they actually ended up becoming more than mere friends.

"Interesting, is it not?" Draco murmured, leaning forward.

Harry glanced up and found himself staring at the lock of blond hair that had fallen over Draco's right eye. Draco was too pretty and Harry felt a strange twist, tightening down in his groin. The sensation had never happened before to him with another boy. Indeed, not even a girl had illicited such a response before. What did this mean?

Did it mean he liked boys?

That he was queer?

Draco smiled his unreadable half-smile. Harry never knew what to make of that curvature of his lips. "I thought I should read up on all the consequences and such of the binding spell before we get the go ahead from Professor Black, just so we know what to expect. We don't want any surprises, do we?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well," Draco remarked, "that was the most interesting, the rest are pretty mundane. Some minor side effects like headaches, fatigue, indigestion, and whatnot. Mostly it seems the spell does what it was intended to do, to make enemies into friends. It worked better in some than others, but in every case it improved relations." He paused, tilting his head. His lock of hair falling over his other eye. "I wonder what it'll do to us."

He was probably analyzing the words too much, Harry thought. He was thinking too deeply into why Draco had chosen to show him this particular consequence of the binding spell. It didn't mean anything except that it was intriguing. Harry felt tense and more than a midgen of what could only be called lust.

He fought it, though, imaging detention and Snape, which easily erased his excitement. Harry took slow, deep breaths and directed his gaze anywhere but at Draco. He was succeeding admirably until he could feel Draco easing closer to him on the sofa, and suddenly he was on edge again.

"I'm curious about something," Draco declared.

Part of Harry wanted to know and part of him thought it was likely a bad idea, but the inquisitive side of him won the battle. "What?" he asked.

"Are you going to put your name into the goblet of fire?"

Harry shook his head. "Of course not."

Draco quirked up an eyebrow. "Why of course not? I think it's a valid question, don't you? You might not show the academic brilliance of Granger or the inventive madness of the Weasley twins, but you are a rather talented Gryffindor even I shall admit. Certainly better than the younger Weasley who I've heard has already decided to try his luck at being named Hogwarts Champion."

"I don't want to be the champion," Harry said, looking at himself fiddle with his hands. "I'd rather just watch the tournament from the sidelines."

Draco lowered his face until he was in Harry's line of vision. "Would you really enjoy just watching it?"

Harry averted his eyes. "Are you going to put your name in the goblet?"

"I'm a Slytherin," Draco responded. "What do you think?"

Harry realized only later when he was walking back to Gryffindor Tower that he had no idea if Draco had meant yes or no.

|-|-|-|-|-|

"There she is! There she is!" Ron exclaimed, motioning toward the beautiful girl in the center of the Beauxbaton's group of students. "What did I tell you?"

"Blimey," Seamus said. "She's gorgeous."

"Yeah," Dean responded dreamily.

Hermione rolled her eyes at both Harry and Neville. "Can you believe them?"

"She's beautiful," Neville said absently, his eyes as glazed as the other boys.

Startled Hermione glanced at Harry. "Did you hear that?" she whispered fiercely.

"Well," Harry remarked, "she is a sight to behold."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You don't seem as captivated as they do, but you probably hide your expressions better."

"I'm fine," Harry said, looking away from the Beauxbaton students. "She's lovely, but I'm more fascinated by the fact that even though she's half-veela she seems to have inherited a veela's ability to mesmerize the other sex."

"How did I forget!" Hermione exclaimed. "Of course, that's it. That's why."

Harry watched with amusement as Hermione watched the others as they were enthralled by the half-veela. Most of the male body of Hogwarts was bewitched, but Harry was pleased to note that Draco did not seem quite as enchanted as either Crabbe or Goyle. After he thought that, Harry wondered what in the world was up with him today.

First he found himself almost aroused by Draco and now he was glad that Draco wasn't attracted to a half-veela? What was wrong with him? Just a week or so ago he and Draco were rivals, even enemies, but not friends and certainly not more than that.

"Look," Hermione said, nudging him with his elbow, "it's the Durmstrang students."

While the Beauxbaton students had been dressed in blue robes, lighter for the girls and darker for the boys, the Durmstrang students walked into the Great Hall wearing completely black robes. It was almost reminiscent of the Death Eaters, except the Durmstrang students did not wear a hood to shadow their faces having foregone the masks years ago when Lord Voldemort had established himself as part of the governing regime.

"Victor Krum," Harry murmured as he caught sight of the seeker for the Bulgarian National Team. "I didn't realize he's from Durmstrang."

"I'm not surprised," she remarked. "You don't really pay much attention to the quidditch players' bios other than their stats."

"That's what's important."

Hermione clucked her tongue like a mother hen, whatever she was about to say was drowned out by the welcoming applause from the Hogwarts students to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Harry clapped his hand half-heartedly, thinking that from the way both Krum and the half-veela were standing in the center of their respective delegations, it was likely they were the leaders of their schools. And it was probable they would be the champions as well.

"Welcome Beauxbatons! Welcome Durmstrang!" Dumbledore exclaimed as he stood up from the head table. "We at Hogwarts extend our utmost hospitality at you for braving the journey to travel from your school to ours. We wish you all to enjoy your time here and to learn from us as we will undoubtedly learn from you.

"The goblet of fire has already arrived and I trust that your respective Headmaster and Headmistress have educated you about the Triwizard Tournament, so I can hardly say much more than what they have already informed you. I will tell you, however, that the goblet of fire will sit in the main hallway, just inside the front doors that you arrived through and it will be there tonight.

"You all, students from Beauxbaton, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts will have a week to put your name within the goblet of fire to take your chance at being named champion of your school and to have your name written within the history books!" Dumbledore paused. "I will say this once more. If you put your name within the goblet of fire, you are signing a binding magical contract to participate in the Triwizard Tournament and if selected you must see it through as champion of your school. There are no age restrictions, though I would caution those of younger years to think before they leap.

"And," Dumbledore declared, "there is one more thing. As it is a binding magical contract, you may only put your own name into the goblet of fire. There will be names placed in as a joke as there will be a spell placed around the goblet to verify that the name you put into the goblet is your own. I hope that this marvelous event, brought back after two hundred years of absence, will inspire each and everyone of you.

"Please sit at your tables," Dumbledore said, nodding at both the Beauxbaton and Durmstrang delegation before waving his hand and having two long tables pop up from out of nowhere, "and enjoy your first taste of Hogwarts!"

|-|-|-|-|-|

_Next time,_ Harry thought as he scrubbed a cauldron that should have been blasted beyond repair and yet somehow Snape insisted was salvageable, he would not be caught out of curfew and he certainly would not be late to anything that involved Snape.

"Potter," Snape said, coming up behind Harry suddenly and unexpectedly, "I do hope that is not your definition of thoroughly cleaned."

Harry wasn't done yet. He put the cauldron underneath the hot water, rinsing out the soap he had used to scrub and the dirt he had managed thusfar to remove. He had only just started on this cauldron. How like Snape to conveniently overlook the polished clean cauldrons Harry had neatly stacked against the wall. How like him to ignore whatever Harry did well.

Regardless of his want to retort, Harry held his tongue. He didn't need any further detentions and Snape was probably only trying to provoke him, to come up with another reason to give him more detentions. He didn't want any more detentions. He didn't need to give Snape any more opportunities to pry into his mind.

Harry tensed as he felt Snape getting closer to him, almost touching him. He realized what a dangerous predicament he was in. Hermione hadn't been able to find anything on how to use Occlumency, although she had found descriptions of it. Too bad that was all together useless to him as he needed to learn how to perform the spell.

She said she would go to the Restricted Section while he was at detention, which was great but did him no good at the moment if Snape decided to invade his thoughts and memories again. Harry felt his heart beating faster in his chest and he was about to break out into a sweat when he felt Snape move away from him.

He gripped the cauldron and took a deep breath of relief. Maybe he would be lucky and Snape would just leave him alone. He was almost done. As soon as he finished cleaning this cauldron, he could leave.

There was dread, though, in his heart.

What Snape pulled the same thing again? Catching him at the last moment when Harry thought he had gotten through detention unscathed? What if Snape went for that memory again?

But – why that memory of all memories?

"Potter," Snape said sharply. "_Potter_."

Harry reluctantly looked up at Snape, paralyzed with the fear that his privacy was but a mere illusion.

"You may leave once you finish that cauldron," Snape said, his eyes so dark and so black. "There is nothing more for you to do."

Harry was unable to break the gaze. Snape was the one that turned away first and it was only after he turned his back to Harry that he was able to resume scrubbing the cauldron. Harry didn't realize how anxious he was until he relaxed his hold on the cauldron and felt how slick his hands were from sweat.

At least, this detention was almost over.

|-|-|-|-|-|

Harry was walking back to Gryffindor Tower so fast that he wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, which was never a good thing since he had the disconcerting habit of colliding with someone. And, of course, he was again running into someone.

"Sorry!" Harry exclaimed, instinctively looking up because he knew the other person was taller than him. He didn't know who he expected to see when he glanced up, but it certainly wasn't Professor Black.

"Potter," Professor Black said, "are you all right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "I should be asking you that question. I wasn't looking and I ran into you."

Professor Black's eyes were very much like his godfather's – bright with a hint of mischief in them. "I was distracted as well," he admitted. "It is unfortunate luck that caused both of us to meet at this very moment, although it could be worse. I am surely not too terrible of a person to run into, am I?"

Harry shook his head adamantly. "No not at all."

Professor Black smiled and Harry realized that he wasn't at all what Harry would have thought the professor to be like – considering he was teaching the Dark Arts and all. It was really prejudice of him, wasn't it? To presume that a dark wizard had to be bad, gloomy, despicable… there were certainly light wizards that were less than the ideal wizard. Of course, there could be good, kind dark wizards as well.

"You should be heading back," Professor Black remarked. "It's already a little past curfew."

Harry wasn't paralyzed with fear like with Snape, but he was wary. He was breaking curfew and that was grounds for detention, not that he could afford any more. He still needed to get through his two weeks with Snape.

Professor Black winked. "I won't tell if you won't. Now get going."

Harry smiled with relief and ran off to Gryffindor Tower, thinking Professor Black was not bad, not bad at all.

|-|-|-|-|-|

"My Lord Voldemort," Lucius said softly as he lowered himself in front of his Master, "everything is going as planned."

Voldemort glanced from the book he was reading toward Lucius. "Is that so?"

"I have communicated your wishes to both Severus and Regulus via Draco," Lucius responded.

"When will there be results?" Voldemort inquired sharply, staring at Lucius with an indiscernible expression.

"Soon, my Lord, soon," Lucius promised as he surreptitiously studying his Master's face since he prided himself in being able to read anyone's face, but his Master's was like a puzzle that was missing too many pieces. He could somewhat put it together and see the outline of what might be there and yet too much was missing to fully see what was going on. It frustrated him, made him caution, and held his admiration.

"Lucius," Voldemort said sibilantly, crooking his finger, "come closer."

Cautiously, not because he was afraid but because he was wise, Lucius stepped toward Voldemort. "Yes, my Lord?"

In the two decades Lucius had served Voldemort, not once had a single sign of age appeared on his Master's face. Voldemort was either aging extremely well or he had discovered somehow the key to eternal youth. Regardless of his physical attractiveness, even if Voldemort did show signs of his age his presence would always be magnetic.

"I have a task for you."

|-|-|-|-|-|

Within the walls of Hogwarts, late into the night and almost into the next morning when not a soul was awake, not even the ghosts that haunted the halls, there was someone in dark robes that blended into the shadows, who walked with confidence and determination, not pausing or hesitating while stepping into the spells that surrounded and guarded the goblet of fire.

This person stopped and withdrew a piece of parchment and held it into the fire until the flame caught hold of the new contender and disintegrated the individual's name and when there was nothing left to hide, whoever this being was made like the wind – appearing then diappearing without a trace.

"Curious," Dumbledore said as he passed the main hallway on his way to the kitchens to restock his coffer of lemon drops. "Most curious."

* * *

_To be continued…_

**A/N:** Things, exciting things are being set into motion. I have started the seeds of quite a few possible plotlines, some of which may come to fruitition and some which might not. I apologize for not proofreading this as this took long enough to write that I figured we should just release this!

Anyway, please keep on reviewing and keep on inspiring us to write more and to write even faster. We both read the reviews over and over, getting ideas even from the littlest comments!

Thanks again and we hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as we enjoyed writing it! (If you want to know how far the story is progressing, please look at the profile page as we update the word count with whatever significant chunk we write, which is usually a couple hundred words. The chapters are close to being finish when they hit 4k and are halfway when they're around 2k).

Released on January 23, 2009.


End file.
